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margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:left; } +p.t13,div.t13,.t13 { margin-left:17em;text-indent:-3em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:left; } +p.t14,div.t14,.t14 { margin-left:18em;text-indent:-3em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:left; } +p.t15,div.t15,.t15 { margin-left:19em;text-indent:-3em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:left; } +.clear { clear:both; } +.htab { margin-left:8em; } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road, by +Hildegard G. Frey</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="pg">Title: The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road</p> +<p class="pg"> or, Glorify Work</p> +<p class="pg">Author: Hildegard G. Frey</p> +<p class="pg">Release Date: June 21, 2011 [eBook #36485]</p> +<p class="pg">Language: English</p> +<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div id="cover" class="img"> +<img src="images/cover.png" alt="The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road" width="505" height="754" /> +</div> +<div class="box"> +<div class="subbox"> +<h1>THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS +<br />ON THE OPEN ROAD</h1> +<p class="center">OR, GLORIFY WORK</p> +</div> +<div class="subbox"> +<p class="center">By HILDEGARD G. FREY</p> +</div> +<div class="subbox"> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Author of</span> +<br />The Camp Fire Girls Series</p> +<div class="img"> +<img src="images/fire.png" alt="A Campfire" width="216" height="173" /> +</div> +</div> +<div class="subbox"> +<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY +<br />Publishers <span class="htab">New York</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="box"> +<p class="center"><b><span class="small">THE</span> +<br /><span class="large"><span class="sc">Camp Fire Girls Series</span></span></b></p> +<hr class="shorthr" /> +<p class="center">By HILDEGARD G. FREY</p> +<hr class="shorthr" /> +<dl class="biblio"> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls in the Maine Woods</dt> +<dd>or, The Winnebago’s Go Camping</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls at School</dt> +<dd>or, The Wohelo Weavers</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls at Onoway House</dt> +<dd>or, The Magic Garden</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls Go Motoring</dt> +<dd>or, Along the Road That Leads the Way</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls Larks and Pranks</dt> +<dd>or, The House of the Open Door</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls on Ellen’s Isle</dt> +<dd>or, the Trail of the Seven Cedars</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road</dt> +<dd>or, Glorify Work</dd> +<dt>The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit</dt> +<dd>or, Over The Top With the Winnebago’s</dd> +</dl> +<hr /> +<p class="center"><span class="small">Copyright, 1918 +<br />By A. L. BURT COMPANY</span></p> +<hr class="shorthr" /> +<div class="htmlonly"> +<p class="center"><span class="small">THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="front" class="img"> +<img src="images/front.png" alt="Just then a negro stepped suddenly from behind the bushes along the road...." width="500" height="790" /> +<p><span class="small">Just then a negro stepped suddenly from behind +the bushes along the road and startled Sandhelo so that he promptly +sat up on his haunches to get a better look at the apparition. +<a href="#Page_49">Page 49.</a></span></p> +<p class="jr"><span class="small">“The Camp-Fire Girls on the Open Road.”</span></p> +</div> +<div class="pb" id="Page_3">[3]</div> +<div class="htmlonly"> +<h2 id="c1">THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS +<br /><span class="small">ON THE OPEN ROAD</span></h2> +</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Oct. 1, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dear First-And-Onlys:</span></p> +<p>When I got to the post-office to-day and found +there was no letter from you, my heart sank right +through the bottom of my number seven boots and +buried itself in the mud under the doorsill. All day +long I had had a feeling that there would be a letter, +and that hope kept me up nobly through the trying +ordeal of attempting to teach spelling and geography +and arithmetic to a roomful of children of +assorted ages who seem as determined not to learn +as I am determined to teach them. It sustained and +soothed me through the exciting process of “settling” +Absalom Butts, the fourteen-year-old bully +of the class, with whom I have a preliminary skirmish +every day in the week before recitations can +begin; and through the equally trying business of +listening to his dull-witted sister, Clarissa, spell “example” +forty ways but the right way, and then dissolve +into inevitable tears. When school was out I +was as limp as a rag, and so thankful it was Friday +night that I could have kissed the calendar. I fairly +“sic”ed Sandhelo along the road to the post-office, +expecting to revel in the bale of news from my belovéds +that was awaiting me, but when I got there +and the post box was bare the last button burst off +the mantle of my philosophy and left me naked to +the cold winds of disappointment. A whole orphan +asylum with the mumps on both sides would have +been gay and chipper compared to me when I +turned Sandhelo’s head homeward and started on +the six-mile drive.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_5">[5]</div> +<p>It had been raining for more than a week, a +steady, warmish, sickening drizzle, that had taken +all the curl out of my spirits and left them hanging +in dejected, stringy wisps. I couldn’t help feeling +how well the weather matched my state of mind as +I drove homeward. The whole landscape was one +gray blur, and the tall weeds that bordered the road +on both sides wept unconsolably on each other’s +shoulders, their tears mingling in a stream down +their stems. I could almost hear them sob. The +muddy yellow road wound endlessly past empty, +barren fields, and seemed to hold out no promise of +ever arriving anywhere in particular. All my life +I have hated that aimlessly winding road, just as I +have always hated those empty, barren fields. They +have always seemed so shiftless, so utterly unambitious. +I can’t help thinking that this corner of +Arkansas was made out of the scraps that were +left after everything else was finished. How father +ever came to take up land here when he had the +whole state to choose from is one of the seven things +we will never know till the coming of the Cocqcigrues. +It’s as flat as a pancake, and, for the most +part, treeless. The few trees there are seem to be +ashamed to be caught growing in such a place, and +make themselves as small as possible. The land is +stony and barren and sterile, neither very good for +farming or grazing. The only certain thing about +the rainfall is that it is certain to come at the wrong +time, and upset all your plans. “Principal rivers, +there are none; principal mountains—I’m the only +one,” as Alice-in-Wonderland used to say. But +father has always been the kind of man that gets +the worst of every bargain.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_6">[6]</div> +<p>Now, you unvaryingly cheerful Winnebagos, go +ahead and sniff contemptuously when you breathe +the damp vapors rising from this epistle, and hear +the pitiful moans issuing therefrom. “For shame, +Katherine!” I can hear you saying, in superior tones, +“to get low in your mind so soon! Why, you +haven’t come to the first turn in the Open Road, and +you’ve gone lame already. Where is the Torch that +you started out with so gaily flaring? Quenched +completely by the first shower! Katherine Adams, +you big baby, straighten up your face this minute +and stop blubbering!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_7">[7]</div> +<p>But oh, you round pegs in your nice smooth, +round holes, you have never been a stranger in a +familiar land! You have never known what it was +to be out of tune with everything around you. Oh, +why wasn’t I built to admire vast stretches of nothing, +content to dwell among untrodden ways and +be a Maid whom there were none to praise and very +few to love, and all that Wordsworth business? +Why do crickets and grasshoppers and owls make +me feel as though I’d lost my last friend, instead of +impressing me with the sociability of Nature? Why +don’t I rejoice that I’ve got the whole road to myself, +instead of wishing that it were jammed with +automobiles and trolley cars, and swarming with +people? Why did Fate set me down on a backwoods +farm when my only desire in life is to dwell in a +house by the side of the road where the circus parade +of life is continually passing? Why am I not +like the other people in this section, with whom ignorance +is bliss, grammar an unknown quantity, and +culture a thing to be sneered at?</p> +<p>Although I can’t see them, I know that somewhere +to the north, just beyond the horizon, the +mountains lift their great frowning heads, and ever +since I can remember I have looked upon them as a +fence which shut me out from the big bustling world, +and over which I would climb some day. Just as +Napoleon said, “Beyond the Alps lies Italy,” so I +thought, “Beyond the Ozarks lies my world.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_8">[8]</div> +<p>I don’t believe I had my nose out of a book for +half an hour at a time in those early days. I went +without new clothes to buy them, and got up early +and worked late to get my chores done so that I +might have more time to read. When I was twelve +years old I had learned all that the teacher in a little +school at the cross roads could teach me, and then +I went to the high school in the little town of Spencer, +six miles away, traveling the distance twice +every day. When there was a horse available I rode, +if not, I walked. But whether riding or walking, I +always had a book in my hand, and read as I went +along. It often happened that, being deep in the +fortunes of my story book friends, I did not notice +when old Major ambled off the road in quest of a +nibble of clover, and would sometimes come to with +a start to find myself lying in the ditch. The neighbors +thought my actions scandalous and pitied my +father and mother because they had such a good-for-nothing +daughter.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_9">[9]</div> +<p>All this time my father was getting poorer and +poorer. He changed from farming to cotton raising +and then made a failure of that, and finally, in +despair, he turned to raising horses, not beautiful +race horses like you read about in stories, but wiry +little cow ponies that the cattlemen use. For some +unaccountable reason he had good luck in this line +for three years in succession, and a year or so after +I had finished this little one-horse high school there +was enough money for me to climb over my Ozark +fence and go and play in the land of my dreams. +One wonderful year, that surpassed in reality anything +I had ever pictured in imagination, and then +the sky fell, and here I am, inside the fence once +more.</p> +<p>Not that I am sorry I came back, no sirree! +Father was so pleased and touched to think I gave +up my college course and came home that he chirked +up right away and started in from the beginning +once more to pay the mortgage off the land and the +stock, and mother is feeling well enough to be up +almost all day now; but to-day I just couldn’t help +shedding a few perfectly good tears over what I +might be doing instead of what I am.</p> +<p>A flock of wild geese, headed south, flew above +my head in a dark triangle, and honked derisively +at me as they passed. “Not even a goose would stop +off in this dismal country!” I exclaimed aloud. +Then, simply wild for sympathy from someone, I +slid off Sandhelo’s back and stood there, ankle deep +in the yellow mud, and put my arms around his +neck.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_10">[10]</div> +<p>“Oh, Sandhelo,” I croaked dismally, “you’re all +I have left of my wonderful year up north. You +love me, don’t you?”</p> +<p>But Sandhelo looked unfeelingly over my shoulder +at the rain splashing down into the road and +yawned elaborately right in my face. There are +times when Sandhelo shows no more feeling than +Eeny-Meeny. Seeing there was no sympathy to be +had from him, I climbed on his back again and rode +grimly home, trying to resign myself to a life of +school teaching at the cross roads, ending in an early +death from boredom.</p> +<p>Father was nowhere about when I rode into the +stableyard, and the door into the stable was shut. +I slid it back, with Sandhelo nosing at my arm all +the while.</p> +<p>“Oh, you’re affectionate enough now that you +want your dinner,” I couldn’t help saying a little +spitefully. Then my heart melted toward him, and, +with my arm around his neck, we walked in together. +Inside of Sandhelo’s stall I ran into something and +jumped as if I had been shot. In the dusk I could +make out the figure of a man sitting on the floor +and leaning against the wall.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_11">[11]</div> +<p>“Is that you, Father?” I asked, while Sandhelo +blinked in astonishment at this invasion of his premises. +There was no answer from the man on the +floor. Why I wasn’t more excited I don’t know, +but I calmly took the lantern down from the hook +and lit it and held it in front of me. The light +showed the man in Sandhelo’s stall to be sound +asleep, with his hand leaned back against the wooden +partition. He had a black beard and his face was +all streaked with mud and dirt, and there was mud +even in his matted hair. He had no hat on. His +clothes were all covered with mud and one sleeve +of his coat was torn partly out.</p> +<p>Sandhelo put down his nose and sniffed inquiringly +at the stranger’s feet. Without ceremony I +thrust the lantern right into the man’s face.</p> +<p>“Who are you and what are you doing here?” I +said, loudly and firmly. The man stirred and opened +his eyes, and then sat up suddenly, blinking at the +light.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” I repeated sternly. The man +stared at me stupidly for an instant; then he passed +his hand over his forehead and stumbled to his feet.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_12">[12]</div> +<p>“Who am I?” he repeated wildly; then his face +screwed up into a frightful grimace and with a groan +he crumpled up on the floor. Leaving Sandhelo still +standing there gazing at him in mild astonishment, +I ran out calling for father.</p> +<p>Father came presently and took a long look at +the man in the stall, and then, without asking any +questions, he got a wet cloth and laid it on his head. +That washed some of the mud off and showed a big +bruise on his forehead over his left eye. Father +called the man that helps with the horses.</p> +<p>“Help me carry this man into the house,” he said +shortly.</p> +<p>“But Father,” I said, “you surely aren’t going to +carry that man into the house? All dirty like that!”</p> +<p>Father gave me one look and I said no more. Together +father and Jim Wiggin lifted the stranger +from the floor and started toward the house with +him, while I capered around in my excitement and +finally ran on ahead to tell mother. They carried +him into the kitchen and laid him down on the old +lounge and tried to bring him around with smelling +salts and things. But he just kept on talking and +muttering to himself, and never opened his eyes.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_13">[13]</div> +<p>And that’s what he’s still doing, while I’m off in +my room writing this. It was five o’clock when we +brought him in, and now it’s after ten and he hasn’t +come to his senses yet. There isn’t a thing in his +pockets to show who he is or where he came from.</p> +<p>I feel so strange since I found that man there. +I’m not a bit low in my mind any more, like I was +this afternoon. I have a curious feeling as if I had +passed a turn in the road and come upon something +new and wonderful.</p> +<p>Forget the lengthy moan I indulged in at the beginning +of this letter, will you, and think of me as +gay and chipper as ever.</p> +<p><span class="center">Yours in Wohelo,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_14">[14]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Oct. 15, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Darling Winnies:</span></p> +<p>And to think, after all that fuss I made about not +getting a letter from you that day, I didn’t have +time to open it for three whole days after it finally +arrived! You remember where I left off the last +time, with the strange man I had found in Sandhelo’s +stable out of his head on the kitchen lounge? +Well, he kept on like that, lying with his eyes shut +and occasionally saying a word or two that didn’t +make sense, all that night and all the next day. +Then on Sunday he developed a high fever and began +to rave. He shouted at the top of his voice +until he was hoarse; always about somebody pursuing +him and whom he was trying to run away +from. Then he began to jump up and try to run +outdoors, until we had to bar the door. It took all +father and Jim Wiggin and I could do to keep him +on the lounge. We had a pretty exciting time of +it, I can tell you. Of course, all the uproar upset +mother and she had another spell with her heart and +took to her bed, and by Tuesday night things got +so strenuous that I had to dismiss school for the rest +of the week and keep all my ten fingers in the domestic +pie.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_15">[15]</div> +<p>I don’t know who rejoiced more over the unexpected +lapse from lessons, the scholars or myself. +I never saw a group of children who were so constitutionally +opposed to learning as the twenty-two +stony-faced specimens of “hoomanity” that I had +to deal with in that little shanty of a school. They’d +rather be ignorant than educated any day. I just +can’t make them do the homework I give them. +Every day it’s the same story. They haven’t done +their examples and they haven’t learned their spelling; +they haven’t studied their geography. The only +way I can get them to study their lessons is to keep +them in after school and stand over them while they +do it. Their only motto seems to be, “Pa and ma +didn’t have no education and they got along, so why +should we bother?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_16">[16]</div> +<p>The families from which these children come are +what is known in this section as “Hard-uppers,” +people who are and have always been “hard up.” +Nearly everybody around here is a Hard-upper. If +they weren’t they wouldn’t be here. The land is +so poor that nobody will pay any price for it, so it +has drifted into the hands of shiftless people who +couldn’t get along anywhere, and they work it in a +backward, inefficient sort of way and make such a +bare living that you couldn’t call it a living at all. +They live in little houses that aren’t much more than +cabins—some of them have only one or two rooms +in them—and haven’t one of the comforts that you +girls think you absolutely couldn’t live without. +They have no books, no pictures, no magazines. It’s +no wonder the children are stony-faced when I try +to shower blessings upon them in the form of spelling +and grammar; they know they won’t have a mite +of use for them if they do learn them, so why take +the trouble?</p> +<p>“What a dreadful set of people!” I can hear you +say disdainfully. “How can you stand it among +such poor trash?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_17">[17]</div> +<p>O my Belovéds, I have a sad admission to make. +I am a Hard-upper myself! My father, while he is +the dearest daddy in the world, never had +a scrap of business ability; that’s how he came +to live in this made-out-of-the-scraps-after-every-thing-else-was-made +corner of Arkansas. He never +had any education either, though it wasn’t because +he didn’t want it. He doesn’t care a rap for reading; +all he cares for is horses. We live in a shack, +too, though it has four rooms and is much better +than most around here. We never had any books +or magazines, either, except the ones for which I +sacrificed everything else I wanted to buy. But I +wanted to learn,—oh, how I wanted to learn!—and +that’s where I differed altogether from the rest of +the Hard-uppers. They’re still wagging their heads +about the way I used to walk along the road reading. +The very first week I taught school this year I was +taking Absalom Butts (mentioned in my former +epistle) to task for speaking saucily to me, and +thinking to impress him with the dignity of my position +I said, “Do you know whom you’re talking +to?”</p> +<p>And he answered back impudently, “Yer Bill +Adamses good-for-nothing daughter, that’s who you +are!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_18">[18]</div> +<p>You see what I’m up against? Those children +hear their parents make such remarks about me +and they haven’t the slightest respect for me. Did +you know that I only got this job of teaching because +nobody else would take it? Absalom Butts’ +father, who is about the only man around here who +isn’t a Hard-upper, and is the most influential man +in the community because he can talk the loudest, +held out against me to the very end, declaring I +hadn’t enough sense to come in out of the rain. As +he is president of the school board in this township—the +whole thing is a farce, but the members are +tremendously impressed with their own dignity—it +pretty nearly ended up in your little Katherine not +getting any school to teach this winter, but when one +applicant after another came and saw and turned +up her nose, it became a question of me or no schoolmarm, +so they gave me the place, but with much +misgiving. I had become very much discouraged +over the whole business, for I really needed the +money, and began to consider myself a regular idiot, +but father said I needn’t worry very much about +being considered a good-for-nothing by Elijah +Butts; his whole grudge against me rose from the +fact that he had wanted to marry my mother when +she was young and had never forgiven father for +beating him to it. That cheered me up considerably, +and I determined to swallow no slights from the +family of Butts.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_19">[19]</div> +<p>Since then it’s been nip and tuck between us. +Young Absalom is a big, overgrown gawk of fourteen +with no brain for anything but mischief. His +chief aim in life just now is to think up something +to annoy me. I ignore him as much as possible so +as not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he +can annoy me, but about every three days we have +a regular pitched battle, and it keeps me worn out. +His sister Clarissa hasn’t enough brain for mischief, +but her constant flow of tears is nearly as bad as his +impudence.</p> +<p>Taken all in all, you can guess that I didn’t shed +any tears about having to close the school that Tuesday +to help take care of the sick man. Anything, +even sitting on a delirious stranger, was a relief +from the constant warfare of teaching school. It +was in the midst of this mess that your letter came, +and lay three whole days before I had time to open +it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_20">[20]</div> +<p>On Saturday the sick man stopped raving and +struggling and lay perfectly motionless. Jim Wiggin +looked at his white, sunken face, and remarked +oracularly, “He’s a goner.”</p> +<p>Even father shook his head and asked me to ride +Sandhelo over to Spencer and fetch the doctor again. +I went, feeling queer and shaky. Nobody had ever +died in our house and the thought gave me a chill. +I wished he had never come, because the business had +upset mother so. Besides that, the man himself bothered +me. Who was he, wandering around like that +among strangers and dying in the house of a man +he had never seen? How could we notify his family—if +he had a family? I couldn’t help thinking +how dreadful it would be if my father were to be +taken sick away from home like that, and we never +knowing what had become of him. I was quite low +in my mind again by the time I had come back with +the doctor.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_21">[21]</div> +<p>But while I had been away a change came over +the sick man. He still lay like dead with his eyes +closed, but he seemed to be breathing differently. +The doctor said he was asleep; the fever had left +him. He wasn’t going to die under a strange roof +after all. When he wakened he was conscious, but +the doctor wouldn’t let us ask him any questions. +He slept nearly all day Sunday and on Monday I +went back to school. When I came home Monday +night I had the surprise of my young life. When I +looked over at the lounge to see how the sick man +was to-day I saw, not a man, but a boy lying there. +A white-faced boy with a sensitive, beautiful mouth, +wan cheeks and great black eyes that seemed to be +the biggest part of his face. My books clattered to +the floor in my astonishment. Father came in just +then and laughed at my amazed face.</p> +<p>“Quite a different-looking bird, isn’t he?” he said. +“The doctor was in again to-day and shaved him. +It does make quite a difference, now, doesn’t it?” +he finished.</p> +<p>Difference! I should say it did! I had thought +all the while that he was a man, because he wore a +beard; it had never occurred to me that the hair had +grown out on his face from neglect, and not because +he wanted it there.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_22">[22]</div> +<p>“I suppose I must have looked frightful,” said +the boy in a weak voice, but with a smile of amusement +in his eyes. Those were the first words I had +heard him speak to anyone, and that was the first +time he had had his eyes wide open and looked directly +at me. For the life of me I couldn’t stop staring +at him. I couldn’t get over how beautiful he +was. He had been so repulsive before, with his hair +all matted and his face discolored by bruises; now +his hair was clipped short and was very soft and +black and shiny. One small transparent hand lay +on top of the blanket. He didn’t look a day over +eighteen.</p> +<p>He lay there half smiling at me and suddenly +for no reason at all I felt large and awkward and +sloppy. Involuntarily my hand flew to the back of +my belt to see if I was coming to pieces, and I stole +a stealthy glance at my feet to see if the shoes I +had on were mates. I was glad when he closed his +eyes and I could slip out of the room unnoticed. I +suppose mother wondered why I was so long getting +supper ready that night. But the truth of the +matter is I spent fifteen minutes hunting through +my bureau drawers for that list of rules of neatness +that Gladys made out for me last summer, and which +I had never thought of once since coming home. I +unearthed them at last and applied them carefully +to my toilet before reappearing in the kitchen. My +hair was very trying; it <i>would</i> hang down in my +eyes until at last in desperation I tucked it under a +cap. As a rule I loathe caps. Just as soon as this +letter reaches you, Gladys, will you send me that +recipe for hand lotion you told me you used? My +hands are a fright, all red and rough. Don’t wait +until the letters from the other girls are ready, but +send the recipe right on by return mail.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_23">[23]</div> +<p>After supper that night we talked to the man on +the couch. At first he seemed very unwilling to tell +anything about himself. We finally got from him +that his name was Justice Sherman; that he was +from Texas, where he had been working on a sheep +ranch; that he had left there and gone up into +Oklahoma and had worked at various places; that +he had gradually worked his way into Arkansas; +that he had fallen in with bad men who had attacked +and robbed him and left him lying senseless in the +road with his head cut open; that he had wandered +around several days in the rain half out of his head, +trying to get someone to take him in, but he looked +so frightful that everyone turned him out and set +the dogs on him, until finally he had stumbled over +a stone and broken his ankle and dragged himself +into our stable and crept into Sandhelo’s stall. +That’s what had made him crumple up on the floor +the day I found him when he tried to get up. He +had fainted from the pain.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_24">[24]</div> +<p>We asked him if he wouldn’t like us to write to +his family or his friends and he answered wearily +that he had no family and no friends in particular +that he would care to notify. Then he closed his +eyes and one corner of his mouth drew up as if with +pain. Poor fellow, I suppose that ankle did hurt +horribly.</p> +<p>Now, you best and dearest of Winnebagos, let the +dear Round Robin letter come chirping along just +as soon as you can, and I’ll promise not to let it lie +three days this time before I read it.</p> +<p><span class="center">Lovingly your</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_25">[25]</div> +<h3>GLADYS TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">Brownell College, Oct. 18, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Darling Katherine:</span></p> +<p>Well, we’re settled at last, though it did seem at +first as though we were going to spend all our college +life wandering around with our belongings in +our arms. We came a day late and found the room +we had arranged for occupied by someone else. +Through a mistake it had been assigned to us after +it had been once assigned to these other two, so we +had to relinquish our claim. The freshman dormitory +was full to the eaves and we realized that there +wasn’t going to be any place for us. We made our +roomless plight known and to make up for it we +were told there was a vacant double in the sophomore +dormitory that we might take provided no +sophomores wanted it. We hadn’t expected such +an honor and sped like the wind after our belongings. +The sophomore dormitory is right across from +the freshman one; they are called Paradise and Purgatory, +respectively. It sounded awfully funny to +us at first to hear the girls asking each other where +they were and to hear them answer, “I’m in Paradise,” +or, “I’m in Purgatory.” We were overcome +with joy when we discovered that Migwan roomed +in Paradise. Our room was way up on the third +floor and hers was down on second, but to be under +the same roof with her was such a comfort that all +our troubles seemed over for good. We just had +our things pretty well straightened out and Hinpoha +was nailing her shoebag to the closet door when the +sky fell and we were informed that a couple of +sophomores wanted our room, and, as there was now +a vacancy in the freshman dormitory, would we +kindly move? So we were thrown out of Paradise +and landed in Purgatory after all, and, for the second +time that day, we trailed across the campus with +our arms full of personal property, strewing table +covers and laundry bags in our wake. We didn’t +have time to straighten out before exams began and +for two days we lived like shipwrecked sailors with +the goods that had been saved from the wreck piled +on the floor and when we wanted anything we had +to rummage for half an hour before we found it. +Even after we had survived exams we were half +afraid to begin settling for fear we would be ordered +to move once more. We couldn’t quite believe that +we were anchored at last.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_27">[27]</div> +<p>The first week went around very fast; we were +so busy getting our classes straightened out and +learning our way through the different buildings that +we didn’t have time to feel homesick. But by Saturday +the first strangeness had worn off; we had +stopped wandering into senior class rooms and professors’ +committee meetings, but still we hadn’t had +time to get very well acquainted. Saturday afternoon +was perfect weather and most everybody in +the house had gone off for a walk, but we had stayed +at home to finish putting our room to rights. When +everything was finally in place we sat down on the +bed and looked at each other. Hinpoha’s eyes suddenly +filled with tears.</p> +<p>“I want the other Winnebagos!” she declared. “I +can’t live without them. I want Sahwah and Nakwisi +and Medmangi, and I want Katherine! +Oh-h-h-h, I want Katherine! How will we ever get +along without her here?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_28">[28]</div> +<p>And we both sat there and wanted you so hard +that it seemed as if the heavens must open up and +drop you down on the bed beside us. Katherine, do +you know that you have ruined our whole lives? +Why, O why did you come to us only to go away +again? You got us so in the habit of looking to +you to tell us what to do next that now we aren’t +able to start a thing for ourselves. We knew that +if you had been there with us that first week you +would have had the whole house in an uproar and +something wonderful would have been happening +every minute. But for the life of us we couldn’t +think of a single thing to do for ourselves.</p> +<p>We were still sitting there steeped in gloom when +Migwan came in to see how we were getting on. +She had some delicious milk chocolate with her and +that cheered Hinpoha up quite a bit. It’s going to +be a heavenly comfort to have Migwan just ahead +of us in college. She knows all the ropes and the +teachers and the gossip about the upper classmen +and tells us things that keep us from making the +ridiculous mistakes so many of the freshmen make +all the time.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_29">[29]</div> +<p>“But just think how <i>I</i> felt here, all alone, last +year,” said Migwan. “Perhaps I didn’t miss you +girls, though! You were still altogether and had +Nyoda, but here there wasn’t a soul who had ever +heard of the Winnebagos. Now it seems like old +times again. Think of it, three whole Winnebagos +living together almost under the same roof! Didn’t +we say that night when we had our last Council Fire +with Nyoda that although we couldn’t be together +any more, we were still Winnebagos and were loyal +friends and true, and that wherever two Winnebagos +should meet, whether it was in the street, or +on mid-ocean, or in a far country, right then and +there would take place a Winnebago meeting? +Why, we’re having a Winnebago meeting this very +minute!”</p> +<p>“Let’s keep on having meetings, as often as we +can, just us three,” said Hinpoha, “and talk over +old times and have ‘Counts.’ We can call ourselves +The Last of the Winnebagos, like the Last of the +Mohicans, and our password will be ‘Remember!’ +That means, ‘Remember the old days!’”</p> +<p>Migwan smiled a little mysteriously, but she +agreed that it was a fine idea.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_30">[30]</div> +<p>We three sat down on the floor in a Wohelo +triangle and repeated our Desire and promised to +seek beauty in everything that came along, and to +give service to all the other girls in college whenever +we had the chance, and to pursue knowledge for all +we were worth now that there was so much of it on +every side of us, and to be trustworthy and obey all +the rules to the smallest detail and never cheat at +exams, and to glorify work until everybody noticed +how well we did everything, and hold on to health +by not sitting up late studying and eating horrible +messes, and to be happy all the time and try to like +every girl in college.</p> +<p>“Let’s clasp hands on it,” said Hinpoha, and we +did, and then stood up and sang “Wohelo for Aye” +until the window rattled. (It’s awfully loose and +rattles at the slightest pretext.)</p> +<p>We had just gotten to the last “Wohelo for Love” +when all of a sudden a face appeared at the window. +We were all so surprised we stopped short and the +last syllable of “Wohelo” was chopped off as if +somebody had taken a knife. Our room is on the +third floor, and for anyone to look in at the window +they would have to be suspended in the air. So +when that head appeared without any warning we +all stood petrified and stared open-mouthed. It was +a girl’s head with very black hair and very red lips. +At first the face just looked at us; then when it saw +our amazement it grinned from ear to ear in the +widest grin I ever saw.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_31">[31]</div> +<p>“Did I scare you?” said the face in a voice so +rich and deep that we jumped again. “No, I’m not +Hamlet, thy father’s ghost, I’m Agony, thy next +door neighbor. I heard you singing ‘Wohelo for +Aye’ and I just looked in to see if I could believe my +ears.”</p> +<p>We all ran to the window and then we saw how +easily the thing had been done. Our window is right +up against the corner of our room and the window +in the other room is right next to it, so that all the +apparition had to do was lean out of her window +and look into ours, which was open from the bottom.</p> +<p>“Come on over!” we urged hospitably.</p> +<p>The apparition withdrew from the window and +appeared a moment later in the doorway, leading a +second apparition.</p> +<p>“I brought my better half along,” said the deep, +rich voice again, as the two girls came into the +room.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_32">[32]</div> +<p>They looked so much alike that we knew at a +glance they were sisters. The one who had looked +in at the window did the introducing.</p> +<p>“We’re the Wing twins,” she said, as if she took +it for granted that we had heard about them already. +“<i>She’s</i> Oh-Pshaw and I’m Agony.”</p> +<p>“Oh-Pshaw and Agony?” we repeated wonderingly, +whereupon the twins burst out laughing.</p> +<p>“Oh, those are not our real names,” said Agony, +“but we’ve been called that so long that it seems as +if they were. Her name’s Alta and mine’s Agnes. +I’ve been nicknamed Agony ever since I can remember, +and Alta got the habit of saying ‘Oh-Pshaw!’ +at everything until the girls at the boarding +school where we went always called her that +and the name stuck. You pronounce it this way, +‘<i>Oh</i>-Pshaw,’ with the accent on the ‘Oh.’”</p> +<p>We were friends all in a minute. How in the +world could you be stiff and formal with two girls +whose names were Agony and <i>Oh</i>-Pshaw?</p> +<p>“We heard you singing ‘Wohelo for Aye,’” +Agony explained, “and it made us so homesick we almost +went up in smoke. We belonged to the corkingest +group back home. It nearly killed us off to +go away and leave them.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_33">[33]</div> +<p>Here <i>Oh</i>-Pshaw broke in and took up the tale. +“When we heard that song coming from next door +Agony squealed, ‘Camp Fire Girls!’ and began to +dance a jig. She wouldn’t wait until I got my hair +done so we could come over and call; she just +stretched her neck until it reached into your window. +Oh, I’m so glad you’re next door to us I +could just pass away!” And <i>Oh</i>-Pshaw caught +Agony around the neck and they both lost their balance +on the foot of the bed and rolled over on the +pillows.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry you have such dandy nicknames,” +said Migwan. “If you didn’t have them we could +call you First Apparition and Second Apparition, +like Macbeth, you know. But the ones you have are +far superior to anything we could think up now.”</p> +<p>Then we told them about the Winnebagos and +about you and Sahwah and the rest of them, and +how we had formed THE LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS +and meant to have meetings right along. +Of course, we asked them to come and “Remember” +their lost group with us, and they were perfectly +wild about it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_34">[34]</div> +<p>“Let’s have our first meeting right now,” proposed +Agony, “and go on a long hike. It’s a scrumptious +day.”</p> +<p>We flew to get our hats and Hinpoha was in such +a hurry that she knocked over the Japanese screen +that stands gracefully across one corner of our room +and that brought to light the pile of things that we +just naturally couldn’t fit into the room anywhere +and had chucked behind the screen until we decided +how to get rid of them. There was Hinpoha’s desk +lamp, the one with the light green shade with +bunches of purple grapes on it—a perfect beauty, +only there was no room for it after we’d decided to +use mine with the two lamps in it; and an extra rug +and a book rack and a Rookwood bowl and quantities +of pictures. You see, we’d both brought along +enough stuff to furnish a room twice the size of +ours.</p> +<p>“Whatever will we do with those things?” sighed +Hinpoha in despair.</p> +<p>“Can’t you give them to somebody?” suggested +Migwan. “That lamp and that vase are perfect +beauties. I’d covet them myself if I didn’t have +more now than I know what to do with.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_35">[35]</div> +<p>“The very thing!” said Hinpoha. “Here we +promised not a half hour ago to ‘Give Service’ all +the time, and yet we didn’t think of sharing +our possessions. To whom shall we give +them?”</p> +<p>“To Sally Prindle,” said Agony and Oh-Pshaw +in one breath.</p> +<p>“Who’s Sally Prindle?” asked Hinpoha and I, +also in chorus.</p> +<p>“She lives down at the other end of the hall in +Purgatory,” said Agony, “in that tiny little box of +a room at the head of the stairs. She’s working her +way through college and waits on table for her +board and does some of the upstairs work for her +room, and she’s awfully poor. She hasn’t a thing +in her room but the bare furniture—not a rug or a +picture. She’d probably be crazy to get them.”</p> +<p>“Let’s give them to her right away,” said Hinpoha, +beginning to gather things up in her arms. +Hinpoha is just like a whirlwind when she gets enthusiastic +about anything.</p> +<p>“But how shall we give them to her?” I asked. +“We don’t know her, and she might feel offended if +she thought we had noticed how bare her room was +and pitied her. How shall we manage it, Migwan?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_36">[36]</div> +<p>“Don’t act as if you pitied her at all,” replied +Migwan. “Simply knock at her door and tell her +you’ve got your room all furnished and there are +some things left over and you’re going up and down +the corridor trying to find out if anybody has room +to take care of them for you until the end of the +year. Of course she has room to take them, so it +will be very simple.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Migwan, what would we do without you?” +cried Hinpoha, and nearly dropped the Rookwood +bowl trying to hug her with her arms full. “You +always know the right thing to do and say.”</p> +<p>Agony and Oh-Pshaw stopped into their room on +the way up and came out with a leather pillow and +an ivory clock to add to the collection. Their room +wasn’t too full, but they wanted to do something +for Sally, too. We had to knock on Sally’s door +twice before she opened it and we were beginning to +be afraid she wasn’t at home. When she did come +to the door she didn’t ask us in; but just stood looking +at us and our armful of things as if to ask what +we wanted. She was a tall, stoop-shouldered girl +with spectacles and a wrinkle running up and down +on her forehead between her eyes. The room was +just as bare as Agony had described; it looked like +a cell.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_37">[37]</div> +<p>“We’re making a tour of Purgatory trying to dispose +of our surplus furniture,” I said, trying to be +offhand, “Have you any room to spare?”</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t,” answered Sally with a snap. +“You’re the third bunch to-day that’s tried to decorate +my room for me. When I want any donations +I’ll ask for them.” And she shut the door right in +our faces.</p> +<p>We backed away in such a hurry that Agony +dropped the clock and it went rolling and bumping +down the stairway.</p> +<p>“Of all things!” said Agony. “I wish poor people +wouldn’t be so disagreeable about it. I’m sure +I’d be tickled to death to use anybody’s surplus to +make up what I lacked. Well, we’ve tried to ‘Give +Service’ anyway, and if it didn’t work it wasn’t our +fault. I think there ought to be a law about ‘Taking +Service’ as well as Giving. Now let’s hurry up +and go for our hike before the sun goes down.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_38">[38]</div> +<p>We went out and had the most glorious tramp +over the hills and found a tiny little village that +looks the same as it must have a hundred years ago, +and then we came back and had hot chocolate in a +darling little shop that was just jammed with students. +Agony and Oh-Pshaw know just quantities +of girls, and introduced us to dozens, and we went +back to Purgatory too happy to think.</p> +<p>“I told you so,” said Migwan, as she came into +the room with us for a minute to get a book.</p> +<p>“What did you tell us?” asked Hinpoha.</p> +<p>“I meant about us three trying to have meetings +just by ourselves and trying to do exactly what we +did when we were Winnebagos. It won’t work. +You’ll keep on making new friends all the time that +you’ll love just as much as the old ones. Don’t forget +the old Winnebagos, but don’t mourn because the +old days have come to an end. There’s more fun +coming to you than you’ve ever had before in your +lives, so be on the lookout for it every minute. +‘Remember!’”</p> +<p>Oh, Katherine, we just love college, and the only +fly in the ointment is that you aren’t here!</p> +<p><span class="center">Your loving</span> +<br /><span class="author">Gladys.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_39">[39]</div> +<p>P. S. Medmangi writes that she has passed her +exams and entered the Medical School. Sahwah is +going to Business College and having the time of her +life with shorthand. P.P.S. Hinpoha is dying of +curiosity to hear more about the sick man. Please +answer by return mail.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_40">[40]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Nov. 1, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Winnies:</span></p> +<p>Well, Justice Sherman may be a sheep herder and +a son of the pasture, but I hae me doots. I know +a hawk from a handsaw if I was born and bred in +the backwoods. I know it isn’t polite to doubt people’s +word, and he seemed to be telling an absolutely +straight story when he told how he beat his way +across from Texas, but for all that there’s some +mystery about him. His manners betrayed him the +first time he ever sat down to the table with us. +Even though he limped badly and was still awfully +wobbly, he stood behind my mother’s chair and +shoved it in for her and then hobbled over and did +the same for me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_41">[41]</div> +<p>You can see it, can’t you? The table set in the +kitchen—for our humble cot does not boast of a +dining room—father and Jim Wiggin collarless and +in their shirtsleeves, and the stranded sheep herder +waiting upon mother and me as if we were queens. +For no reason at all I suddenly became abashed. I +felt my face flaming to the roots of my hair, and +absentmindedly began to eat my soup with a fork, +whereat Jim Wiggin set up a great thundering haw! +haw! Jim had been a sheep herder before he came +to take care of father’s horses, and it struck me +forcibly just then that there was a wide difference +between him and the stranger within our gates.</p> +<p>I said something to father about it that night +when we were out in the stable together giving Sandhelo +his nightly dole. Father rubbed his nose with +the back of his hand, a sign that a thing is of no +concern to him.</p> +<p>“Don’t you get to worryin’ about the stranger’s +affairs,” he advised mildly. “If he’s got something +he doesn’t want to tell, you ain’t got no business +tryin’ to find it out. Tend to your own affairs, I +say, and leave others’ alone. There ain’t nobody +goin’ to be pestered with embarrassing questions +while they’re under my roof.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_42">[42]</div> +<p>So I promised not to ask any questions. Just +about the time the stranger’s foot was well enough +to walk on, Jim Wiggin stepped on a rusty nail and +laid himself up. Justice Sherman was a godsend +just then because men were so hard to get, and +father hired him to help with the horses until Jim +was about again. Father begged me again at this +time not to ask him anything about his past.</p> +<p>“Just as soon as he thinks we’re gettin’ curious +he’ll up and leave,” he said, “and that would put us +in a bad way. Help is so scarce now I don’t know +where I <i>would</i> get an extra man. Seems almost as +though the hand of Providence had sent him to us.”</p> +<p>It was perfectly true. Since so many men had +gone into the army it was next thing to impossible +to get any help on the farms except good-for-nothing +negroes that weren’t worth their salt. It +seemed, indeed, an act of Providence to cast an +able man at our door just at this juncture. So I +promised again not to bother the man with questions.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_43">[43]</div> +<p>Indeed, it bade fair to be an easy matter not to +ask him any questions. Beyond a few polite words +at meals he never said anything at all, and as he +had moved his sleeping quarters to a small cabin +away from the house I saw very little of him, and +I suppose we never would have gotten any better +acquainted if your letter hadn’t come that Friday. +Friday is the worst day of the week for me, because +after five days of constant set-to-ing with Absalom +Butts my philosophy is at its lowest ebb. This +week was the worst because I had a visitation from +the school board to see how I was getting on, and, +of course, none of the pupils knew a thing and most +of them acted as if the very devil of mischief had +gotten into them. Elijah Butts gave me a solemn +warning that I would have to keep better order if +I wanted to stay in the school, and Absalom, who +had been hanging around listening, made an impudent +grimace at me and laughed in a taunting +manner. If I hadn’t needed the money so badly I +would have thrown up the job right there.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_44">[44]</div> +<p>Then, on top of that, came your letter describing +the supergorgeousness of your college rooms, +and when I thought of the room I had planned to +have at college this winter, adjoining yours, my +heart turned to water within me and melancholy +marked me for its own. I wept large and pearly +tears which Niagara-ed over the end of my nose and +sizzled on the hot stove, as I stood in the kitchen +stirring a pudding for supper. Get the effect, do +you? Me standing there with the spoon in one +hand and your letter in the other, doing the Niobe +act, quite oblivious to the fact that I was not the +only person in the county. I was just in the act of +swallowing a small rapid which had gotten side-tracked +from the main channel and gone whirlpooling +down my Sunday throat, when a voice behind +me said, “Did you get bad news in your letter?”</p> +<p>I jumped so I dropped the letter right into the +pudding. I made a savage dab at my eyes with the +corner of my apron and wheeled around furiously. +There stood the Justice Sherman person looking +at me with his solemn black eyes. I was ready to +die with shame at being caught.</p> +<p>“No, I didn’t,” I exploded, mopping my face vehemently +with my apron, and thereby capping the +climax. For while I had been reading your letter +and absently stirring the pudding it had slopped +over and run down the front of my apron, and, of +course, I had to use just that part to wipe my face +with. The pudding was huckleberry, and what it +did to my features is beyond description. I caught +one glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink +and then I sank down into a chair and just yelled. +Justice Sherman doubled up against the door frame +in a regular spasm of mirth, although he tried not +to make much noise about it. Finally he bolted out +of the door and came back with a basin of water +from the pump, which he set down beside me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_45">[45]</div> +<p>“Here,” he said, “remove the marks of bloody +carnage, before you scare the wolf from the door.”</p> +<p>So I scrubbed, wishing all the while that he would +go away, and still furious for having made such a +spectacle of myself. But he stayed around, and +when I resembled a human being once more (if I +ever could be said to resemble one), he came over +and handed me the letter, which he had fished out +of the pudding.</p> +<p>“Here’s the fatal missive,” he said, “or would +you rather leave it in the pudding?”</p> +<p>“Throw it into the fire,” I commanded.</p> +<p>“That’s the right way,” he said approvingly. “I +always burn bad news myself.”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t bad news,” I insisted.</p> +<p>“Then why the tears?” he inquired curiously. +“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_46">[46]</div> +<p>He was smiling, but somehow I had a feeling that +he was trying to cheer me up and not making fun +of me. I was so low in my mind that afternoon that +anyone who acted in the least degree sympathetic +was destined to fall a victim. Before I knew it I +had told him of my shipwrecked hopes and how your +letter had opened the flood gates of disappointment +and nearly put out the kitchen fire.</p> +<p>“College—you!” I heard him exclaim under his +breath. He stared at me solemnly for a moment and +then he exclaimed, “O tempora, O mores! What’s +to hinder?”</p> +<p>“What’s to hinder?” I repeated blankly.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “having the room anyway.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Why,” he explained, “you have a room of your +own, haven’t you? Why don’t you fix it up just the +way you had planned to have your room in college? +Then you can go there and study and make believe +you’re in college.”</p> +<p>I stared at him open-mouthed. “Make-believe +has never been my long suit,” I said.</p> +<p>“Come on,” he urged. “I’ll help you fix it up. +If you have any more tears prepare to shed them +now into the paint pot and dissolve the paint.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_47">[47]</div> +<p>Before I knew what had happened we had laid +forcible hands on the bare little cell I had indifferently +been inhabiting all these years and transformed +it into the study of my dreams. We cut a window +in the side that faces in the direction of the mountains +and made a corking window seat out of a +packing case, on which I piled cushions stuffed with +thistle down. We papered the whole place with +light yellow paper, tacked up my last year’s school +pennants and put up a book shelf. This last proved +to be a delusion and a snare, because one end of it +came down in the middle of the night not long afterward +and all the books came tobogganing on top of +me in bed. As a finishing touch, I brought out the +snowshoes and painted paddle that were a relic of +my Golden Age, and which I had never had the heart +to unpack since I came home. When finished the +effect was quite epic, though I suppose it would +make Hinpoha’s artistic eye water.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_48">[48]</div> +<p>Of course, it will never make up for not going +to college, but it helped some, and in working at it +I got very well acquainted with Justice Sherman +all of a sudden. We had long talks about everything +under the sun, and he continually bubbled over +with funny sayings. He confided to me that he had +never been so surprised in all his life as when I told +him I wanted to go to college. You see, he had +thought we were like the other poor whites in the +neighborhood, and I was like the other girls he had +seen. He didn’t take any interest in me until I +bowled him over with the statement that I had already +passed my college entrance exams.</p> +<p>All this time I never hinted that I suspected he +was not the simple sheep herder he pretended to be. +I had given father my word and, of course, had to +keep it. But one afternoon the Fates had their fingers +crossed, and Pandora like, I got my foot in it. +I had driven Justice over to Spencer in the rattledy +old cart with Sandhelo. On the way we talked of +many things, and I came home surer than ever that +he was no sheep herder. Once when the conversation +lagged and in the silence Sandhelo’s heels +seemed to be beating out a tune as they clicked along, +I remarked ruminatingly, “There’s a line in Virgil +that is supposed to imitate the sound of galloping +horses.”</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<i>Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit angula campam,</i>”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>quoted Justice promptly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_49">[49]</div> +<p>So he was on quoting terms with Virgil! But I +remembered my promise and made no remarks.</p> +<p>A little later I was telling about the winter hike +we had taken on snowshoes last year.</p> +<p>“You ought to see the sport they have on snowshoes +in Switzerland,” he began with kindling eyes. +Then he broke off suddenly and changed the subject.</p> +<p>So Texas sheep herders learn their trade in Switzerland! +But again I yanked on the curb rein of my +curiosity. I apparently took no notice of his remark, +for <a href="#front">just then a negro stepped suddenly from +behind the bushes along the road and startled Sandhelo +so that he promptly became temperamental and +sat up on his haunches to get a better look at the +apparition</a>, and the mess he made of the harness +furnished us plenty of theme for conversation for +the next ten minutes.</p> +<p>“Lord, what an ape,” remarked Justice, gazing +after the departing form of the negro shambling +along the road, “he looks like the things you see in +nightmares.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_50">[50]</div> +<p>Accustomed as I was to seeing low-down niggers, +this one struck me as being the worst specimen nature +had ever produced. He had the features of a +baboon, and the flapping rags of the grotesque garments +he wore made him look like a wild creature.</p> +<p>“Do you have many such intellectual-looking gentlemen +around here?” asked Justice, twisting his +neck around for a final look at the fellow. “I’d +hate to meet that professor at the dark of the +moon.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they’re really not as bad as they look,” I replied. +“They look like apes, but they’re quite +harmless. They’re shiftless to the last degree, but +not violent. They’re too lazy to do any mischief.”</p> +<p>“Just the same, I’d rather not get into an argument +with that particular brother, if it’s all the same +to you,” answered Justice. “He looks like mischief +to me.”</p> +<p>“He <i>doesn’t</i> look like a prize entry in a beauty +contest,” I admitted.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_51">[51]</div> +<p>With all that talk about the negro Justice’s remark +about Switzerland went unheeded, but I didn’t +forget it just the same. I thought about it all the +rest of the afternoon and it was as plain as the nose +on your face that there was some mystery about +Justice Sherman. A sheep herder who spouted Virgil +at a touch, quoted continually from the classics, +had refined manners and had traveled abroad, +couldn’t hide his light under a bushel very well. Another +thing; he wasn’t a Texan as he had led us to +believe. He talked with the crisp, clear accent of the +North, and the fuss he made about the negro in the +road that afternoon betrayed the fact that he was +no southerner. Nobody around here pays any attention +to niggers, no matter how tattered they are. +We’re used to them, but northerners always make a +fuss.</p> +<p>The question bubbled up and down in my mind, +keeping time to the bubbling of the soup on the +stove; why was this educated and refined young man +working for thirty dollars a month as a handy man +around horses on a third-rate stock farm in this +God-forsaken part of the country? Then a suspicion +flashed into my mind and at the dreadful +thought I stopped stirring with the upraised spoon +frozen in mid-air. Then I gathered my wits together +and started resolutely for the table. I had +promised father I would never ask Justice Sherman +anything about his past, but here was something that +swept aside all personal obligations and promises. +I found him with father in the stable working over +a sick colt. I marched straight up to him and began +without any preamble.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_52">[52]</div> +<p>“See here, Justice Sherman,” I said, “are you +hiding yourself to avoid military service? Are you +a slacker?”</p> +<p>Justice Sherman straightened up and looked at +me with flashing eyes. “No, I’m not!” he shouted +in a voice quite unlike his.</p> +<p>I never saw anyone in such a rage. His face was +as red as a beet and his hair actually stood on end. +“I registered for the service,” he went on hotly, “and +wasn’t called in the draft. I tried to enlist and they +wouldn’t take me. I was under weight and had a +weak throat. If anyone thinks I’m a slacker, +I’ll——” Here he choked and had a violent coughing +spell.</p> +<p>I stared at him, dazed. I never thought he could +get so angry. He looked at me with hostile, indignant +eyes. Then he straightened up stiffly and +walked out of the stable.</p> +<p>“I won’t stay here any longer,” he exploded, still +at the boiling point. “I won’t be insulted.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_53">[53]</div> +<p>“I apologize,” I said humbly. “I spoke in haste. +Won’t you please consider it unsaid?”</p> +<p>No, he wouldn’t consider it unsaid. He wouldn’t +listen to father’s pathetic plea not to leave him without +a helper. We suspected him of being a slacker +and that finished it. He would leave immediately. +Down the road he marched as fast as he could go +without ever turning his head.</p> +<p>A worm in the dust was much too exalted to describe +the way I felt. With the best of intentions I +had precipitated a calamity, taking away father’s +best helper at a critical time, to say nothing of my +losing him as a companion. I was too disgusted with +myself to live and chopped wood to relieve my +feelings. After supper I hitched up Sandhelo and +drove to Spencer to post a letter. I am not in the +least sentimental—you know that—but all along +the road I kept seeing things that reminded me of +Justice Sherman and the fun we had had together. +Now that he was gone the days ahead of me seemed +suddenly very empty, and desolation laid a firm hand +on my ankle.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_54">[54]</div> +<p>Also, I had an uncomfortable recollection that it +was right along here we had met the horrid negro, +and I became filled with fear that I would meet him +again. The fear grew, and turned into absolute +panic when I approached that same clump of bushes +and in the dusk saw a figure rise from behind them +and lurch toward the road. I pulled Sandhelo up +sharply, thinking to turn around and flee in the opposite +direction, but Sandhelo refused to be turned. +When I pulled him up he sat back and mixed up the +harness so he got the bit into his teeth, and then he +jumped up and went straight on forward, with a +squeal of mischief. When we were opposite the +figure in the road Sandhelo stopped short and poked +his nose forward just the way he used to do when +Justice Sherman came into his stall.</p> +<p>“Hello,” said a voice in the darkness, and then +I saw that the figure in the road was Justice Sherman. +His bad ankle had given out on him and he +had been sitting there on the ground waiting for +some vehicle to come along and give him a lift to +Spencer.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div> +<p>“Get in,” I said briefly, helping him up, and he +got in beside me without a word. We drove to +Spencer in silence and he made no move to get out +when we got there. I mailed my letter and then +turned and drove homeward. About half way home +he spoke up and apologized for being so hasty, and +wondered if father would take him back again. I +reassured him heartily and we were on the old footing +of intimacy by the time we reached home.</p> +<p>We found father standing in front of the house +talking to a negro whom we recognized as the one +we had met in the road that afternoon. Father +greeted Justice Sherman with joy and relief.</p> +<p>“You pretty nearly came back too late,” he said. +“Here I was just hiring a man to take your place.” +Then he turned to the negro and said, “It’s all off, +Solomon. I don’t need you. My own man has come +back. You go along and get a job somewhere else.”</p> +<p>The negro shuffled off and I fancied that he looked +rather resentful at being sent away.</p> +<p>“Father,” I said, when the creature was out of +earshot, “you surely weren’t going to hire that ape +to work here?”</p> +<p>“Why not?” answered father. “I have to have +a man to help with the horses, and this fellow came +up to the door and asked for work, so I promised +him a job.”</p> +<p>“But he’s such a terrible looking thing,” I said.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div> +<p>Father only laughed and dismissed the subject +with a wave of his hands. “I wasn’t hiring him for +his looks,” he answered. “He said he could handle +horses and that was enough for me.”</p> +<p>So Justice Sherman came back to us and the subject +of military service was never broached again.</p> +<p>About a week after his return, and when Jim +Wiggin was able to be about again, Justice Sherman +walked into the kitchen with a mincing air +quite unlike his ordinary free stride. He had been +to Spencer for the mail.</p> +<p>“Tread softly when you see me,” he advised. +“I’m a perfessor, I am.”</p> +<p>I looked up inquiringly from the potato I was +paring.</p> +<p>“Behold in me,” he went on, “the entire faculty +of the Spencer High School. I am instructor in +Latin, Greek, mathematics, science, history, English +and dramatics; also civics and economics.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean really?” I asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div> +<p>“Really and truly, for sartain sure,” he repeated. +“The last faculty got drafted and left the school +in a bad way. I heard about it down at the post-office +this afternoon and went over and applied for +the job. The hardened warriors that compose the +school board fell for me to a man. I recited one +line of Latin and they applauded to the echo; I recited +a line of gibberish and told them it was Greek, +and they wept with delight at the purity of my accent. +Then they cautiously inquired if I was qualified +to teach any other branches and I told them +that I also included in my repertoire cooking, dressmaking +and millinery. This last remark was intended +to be facetious, but those solemn old birds +took it seriously and forthwith broke into loud hosannas. +I was somewhat mystified at the outbreak +until I gathered from bits of conversation that the +extravagant township of Spencer had intended to +hire two high school teachers this year, as the last +incumbent’s accomplishments had been rather brief +and fleeting, but what was the use, as one pious old +hairpin by the name of Butts delicately put it, what +was the use of paying two teachers when one feller +could do the hull thing himself? Then he shook me +feelingly by the hand and said he knowed I was a +bargain the minute he laid eyes on me. O Tempora, +O Mores! Papers were brought and shoved into +my yielding hands, the writ duly executed, and I +passed out of the door a fully fledged ‘perfessor’ +with a six-months’ contract. Smile on me, please, +I’m a bargain!” And he danced a hornpipe in the +middle of the floor until the dishes rattled in the +cupboard.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div> +<p>I stared at him speechless. He teach high school? +And the things he mentioned as being able to teach! +History, French, mathematics, physics, literature, +philosophy, Latin, Greek! Quite a well-rounded +sheep herder, this! The mystery about him deepened. +It was clear now that he was a college graduate. +Again I revised my estimate as to his age, +and decided he must be about twenty-three or four. +Why would he be willing to teach a farce of a high +school like the one in Spencer?</p> +<p>Then in the midst of my puzzling it came over me +that I did not want him to leave us, and that I would +miss him terribly. Of course, he would go to live +in Spencer.</p> +<p>“Are you going to board with any of the school +board?” I asked jealously, that being what the last +“faculty” had done.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div> +<p>“Board with the Board?” he repeated. “Neat expression, +that. Not that I know of. I haven’t been +requested to vacate my present quarters yet, or do +I understand that you are even now serving notice?”</p> +<p>A thrill of joy shot through me. Maybe he would +still live in the little cabin on our farm.</p> +<p>“I thought of course you would rather live near +the school,” I said. “It’s six miles from here. Why +don’t you?”</p> +<p>“‘I would dwell with thee, merry grasshopper,’” +he quoted. “That is, if I am kindly permitted to do +so.”</p> +<p>And so we settled it. He is to ride with Sandhelo +in the cart every day as far as my school, then +drive on to Spencer, and stop for me on the way +home. What fun it is going to be!</p> +<p><span class="center">Yours, <i>summa cum felicitate</i>,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<p>P. S. Sandhelo sends three large and loving hee-haws.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div> +<h3>SAHWAH TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">Nov. 10, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Darling K:</span></p> +<p>This big old town is like the Deserted Village +since you and the other Winnies went away. For +the first few weeks it was simply ghastly; there +wasn’t a tree or a telephone pole that didn’t remind +me of the good times we used to have. Do you +realize that I am the sole survivor of our once large +and lusty crew? Migwan and Hinpoha and Gladys +are at Brownell; Veronica is in New York; Nakwisi +has gone to California with her aunt; Medmangi +is in town, but she is locked up in a nasty +old hospital learning to be a doctor in double quick +time so she can go abroad with the Red Cross. +Nothing is nice the way it used to be. I like to go +to Business College, of course, and there are lots of +pleasant girls there, but they aren’t my Winnies. +I get invited to things, and I go and enjoy myself +after a fashion, but the tang is gone. It’s like ice +cream with the cream left out.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div> +<p>I went to the House of the Open Door one Saturday +afternoon and poked around a bit, but I didn’t +stay very long; the loneliness seemed to grab hold +of me with a bony hand. Everything was just the +way we had left it the night of our last Ceremonial +Meeting—do you realize that we never went out +after that? There was the candle grease on the +floor where Hinpoha’s emotion had overcome her +and made her hand wobble so she spilled the melted +wax all out of her candlestick. There were the +scattered bones of our Indian pottery dish that you +knocked off the shelf making the gestures to your +“Wotes for Wimmen” speech. There was the Indian +bed all sagged down on one side where we had +all sat on Nyoda at once.</p> +<p>It all brought back last year so plainly that it +seemed as if you must everyone come bouncing out +of the corners presently. But you didn’t come, and +by and by I went down the ladder to the Sandwiches’ +Lodge. That was just as bad as our nook upstairs. +The gym apparatus was there, just as it used to be, +with the mat on the floor where they used to roll +Slim, and beside it the wreck of a chair that Slim had +sat down on too suddenly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div> +<p>Poor Slim! He tried to enlist in every branch +of the service, but, of course, they wouldn’t take +him; he was too fat. He starved himself and drank +vinegar and water for a week and then went the +rounds again, hoping he had lost enough to make +him eligible, and was horribly cut up when he found +he had gained instead. He was quite inconsolable +for a while and went off to college with the firm +determination to trim himself down somehow. Captain +has gone to Yale, so he can be a Yale graduate +like his father and go along with him to the class +reunions. Munson McKee has enlisted in the navy +and the Bottomless Pitt in the Ambulance Corps. +The rest of the Sandwiches have gone away to +school, too.</p> +<p>The boards creaked mournfully under my feet +as I moved around, and it seemed to me that the old +building was just as lonesome for you as I +was.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div> +<p>“You ought to be proud,” I said aloud to the +walls, “that you ever sheltered the Sandwich Club, +because now you are going to be honored above all +other barns,” and I hung in the window the Service +Flag with the two stars that I had brought with me. +It looked very splendid; but it suddenly made the +place seem strange and unfamiliar. Here was something +that did not belong to the old days. It is so +hard to realize that the boys who used to wrestle +around here have gone to war.</p> +<p>I went out and closed the door, but outside I +lingered a minute to look sadly up at the little window +in the end where the candle always used to burn +on Ceremonial nights.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, House of the Open Door,” I said, +“we’ve had lots of good times in you and nobody +can ever take them away from us. We’ve got to +stop playing now for awhile and Glorify Work. +We’re going to do our bit, and you must do yours, +too, by standing up proudly through all winds and +weather and showing your service flag. Some day +we’ll all come back to you, or else the Winnebago +spirit will come back in somebody else, and you must +be ready.”</p> +<p>I said good-bye to the House of the Open Door +with the hand sign of fire and a military salute, and +went away feeling a heavy sense of responsibility, +because in all this big lonely city I was the only one +left to uphold the honor of the Winnebagos.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div> +<p>And hoop-la! I did it, too, all by myself. The +week after I had paid the visit to the House of the +Open Door someone called me on the telephone and +wanted to know if this was Miss Sarah Brewster +who belonged to the Winnebago Camp Fire Girls, +and when I said yes it was the voice informed me +that she was Mrs. Lewis, the new Chief Guardian +for the city, and President of the Guardians’ Association. +She went on to say that she wanted to plan +a patriotic parade for all the Camp Fire Girls in the +city to take part in, and as part of the ceremony to +present a large flag to the city. She knew what she +wanted all right, but she wasn’t sure that she could +carry it out, and as she had seen the Winnebagos +the time they took part in the Fourth of July pageant, +she wanted to know if we would take hold and +help her manage the thing. I started to tell her that +the Winnebagos weren’t here and couldn’t help her; +then I reflected that I, at least, was left and it was +up to me to do what you all would have done if you +had been here. So I said yes, I’d be glad to take +hold and help make the parade a success.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div> +<p>And, believe me, it was! Can you guess how +many girls marched? <i>Twenty-three hundred!</i> +Glory! I didn’t know there were so many girls in +the whole world! The line stretched back until you +couldn’t see the end, and still they kept on coming. +And who do you suppose led the parade? Why, <i>I</i> +did, of all people! And on a <i>horse</i>! Carrying the +Stars and Stripes on a long staff that fitted into a +contrivance on the saddle to hold it firm. Right in +front of me marched the Second Regiment Band, +and my horse pawed the ground in time to the music +until I nearly burst with excitement. After me came +the twenty girls, all Torch Bearers, who carried the +big flag we were going to present to the city, and +behind them came the floats and figures of the pageant.</p> +<p>I must tell you about some of these, and a few of +them you’ll recognize, because they are our old +stunts trimmed up to suit the occasion.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div> +<p>GIVE SERVICE was the most impressive, because +it is the most important just now. It was in +twelve parts, showing all the different ways in which +Camp Fire Girls could serve the nation in the great +crisis. There was the Red Cross Float, showing the +girls making surgical dressings and knitting socks +and sweaters. Another showed them making clothes +for themselves and for other members of the family +to cut down the hiring of extra help; and similar +floats carried out the same idea in regard to cooking, +washing and ironing. Yes ma’am! Washing and +ironing! You don’t need to turn up your nose. One +float was equipped with a complete modern household +laundry and the girls on it had their sleeves +rolled up to their elbows and were doing up fine +waists and dresses in great shape, besides operating +electric washing machines and mangles.</p> +<p>One float was just packed full of good things +which the girls had cooked without sugar, eggs or +white flour, and with fruits and vegetables which +they had canned and preserved themselves, while +the fertile garden in which said fruits and vegetables +had grown came trundling on behind, the girls +armed with spades, hoes and rakes. I consumed +two sleepless nights and several strenuous afternoons +accomplishing that garden on wheels and I +want you to know it was a work of art. The plants +were all artificial, but they looked most lifelike, indeed.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div> +<p>Besides those things we had groups of girls taking +care of children so their mothers could go out and +work; and teaching foreign girls how to take care +of their own small brothers and sisters, so they’ll +grow up strong and healthy.</p> +<p>There really seemed to be no end to our usefulness.</p> +<p>Behind the wheeled portion of the parade came +hundreds of girls on foot, carrying pennants that +stretched clear across the street, with clever slogans +on them like this:</p> +<p class="center">DON’T FORGET US, UNCLE SAMMY, +<br />WE’RE ALWAYS ON THE JOB +<br /><span class="gs">* * * * * *</span> +<br />YOU’RE HERE BECAUSE WE’RE HERE +<br /><span class="gs">* * * * * *</span> +<br />AND THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING! +<br /><span class="gs">* * * * * *</span> +<br />WE ARE PROUD TO LABOR FOR OUR COUNTRY</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div> +<p>And the people! Oh, my stars! They lined the +streets for thirty blocks, packed in solid from the +store fronts to the curb. And the way they cheered! +It made shivers of ecstasy chase up and down my +spine, while the tears came to my eyes and a big +lump formed in my throat. If you’ve never heard +thousands of people cheering at you, you can’t imagine +how it feels.</p> +<p>One time when the procession halted at a cross +street I saw a fat old man, who I’m sure was a dignified +banker, balancing himself on a fireplug so +he could see better, and waving his hat like crazy. +He finally got so enthusiastic that he fell off the +fireplug and landed on his hands and knees in the +gutter, where some Boy Scouts picked him up and +dusted him off, still feebly waving his hat.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_69">[69]</div> +<p>Our line of march eventually brought us out at +Lincoln Square, where the presentation of the flag +was to take place. We stood in the shadow of the +Lincoln Memorial monument, and who do you suppose +presented the flag? Me again. In the name of +all the Camp Fire Girls of the city, I ceremoniously +presented it to the Mayor, who accepted it with a +flowery speech that beat mine all hollow. Besides +presenting the flag I was to help raise it. The pole +was there already; it had seen many flag raisings in +its long career and many flags had flapped themselves +to shreds on its top. The thing I had to do was +fasten our flag to the ropes and pull her up. In this +I was to be assisted by a soldier brother of one of +the girls who was home on furlough. He was to be +standing there at the pole waiting for us, but when +the time came he wasn’t there. Where he was I +hadn’t the slightest idea; nor did I have any time to +spend wondering. Mrs. Lewis had set her heart on +having a man in soldier’s uniform help raise the flag; +it added so much to the spirit of the occasion. Just +at this moment I saw a man in army uniform standing +in the crowd at the foot of the monument, very +close to me. Without a moment’s hesitation I beckoned +him imperatively to me. He came and I +thrust the rope into his hands, whispering directions +as to what he was to do. It all went without +a hitch and the crowd never knew that he wasn’t the +soldier we had planned to have right from the start. +We pulled evenly together and the flag slowly unfolded +over our heads and went fluttering to the +top, while the band crashed out the “Star Spangled +Banner.” It was glorious! If I had been thrilled +through before, I was shaken to my very foundations +now. I felt queer and dizzy, and felt myself +making funny little gaspy noises in my throat. +There was a great cheer from the crowd and the +ceremonies were over. The parade marched on to +the Armory, where we were to listen to an address +by Major Blanchard of the —th Engineers.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_70">[70]</div> +<p>The girls had all filed in and found seats when +Mrs. Lewis, who was to introduce Major Blanchard, +came over to me where I was standing near the +stage and said in a tragic tone, “Major Blanchard +couldn’t come; I’ve had a telegram. What on earth +are we going to do? He was going to tell stories +about camp life; the girls will be <i>so</i> disappointed +not to hear him.”</p> +<p>I rubbed my forehead, unable to think of anything +that would meet the emergency. An ordinary +speaker wouldn’t fill the bill at all, I knew, +when the girls all had their appetites whetted for a +Major.</p> +<p>“We might ask the band to give a concert, and all +of us sing patriotic songs,” I ventured finally.</p> +<p>“I don’t see anything else to do,” said Mrs. Lewis, +“but I’m <i>so</i> disappointed not to have the Major here. +The girls are all crazy to hear about the camp.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_71">[71]</div> +<p>Just then I caught sight of a uniform outside of +the open entrance way.</p> +<p>“Wait a minute,” I said, “there’s the soldier who +helped us raise the flag, standing outside the door. +Maybe he’ll come in and talk to the girls in place of +the Major.” I hurried out and buttonholed the soldier. +He declined at first, but I wouldn’t take no +for an answer. I literally pulled him in and chased +him up the aisle to the stage.</p> +<p>“But I can’t make a speech,” he said in an agonized +whisper, as we reached the steps of the stage, +trying to pull back.</p> +<p>“Don’t try to,” I answered cheerfully. “Speeches +are horrid bores, anyway. Just tell them exactly +what you do in camp; that’s what they’re crazy +to hear about.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Lewis didn’t tell the audience that the +speaker was one I had kidnapped in a moment of +desperation. She introduced him as a friend of the +Major’s, who had come to speak in his place. The +applause when she introduced him was just as hearty +as if he had been the Major himself. The fact that +he was a soldier was enough for the girls.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_72">[72]</div> +<p>And he brought down the house! He wasn’t an +educated man, but he was very witty, and had the +gift of telling things so they seemed real. He told +little intimate details of camp life from the standpoint +of the private as the Major never could have +told them. He had us alternately laughing and +crying over the little comedies and tragedies of barracks +life. He imitated the voices and gestures of +his comrades and mimicked the officers until you +could see them as plainly as if they stood on the +stage. He talked for an hour instead of the half +hour the Major was scheduled to speak and when +he stopped the air was full of clamorings for more. +Private Kittredge had made more of a hit than +Major Blanchard could have done.</p> +<p>I never saw a person look so astonished or so +pleased as he did at the ovation which followed his +speech. He stood there a moment, looking down at +the audience with a wistful smile, then he got fiery +red and almost ran off the stage.</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry the +Major’s not coming,” whispered Mrs. Lewis to me +under cover of the applause. “The Major’s a very +fine speaker, but he wouldn’t have made such a +<i>human</i> speech. You certainly have a knack of picking +out able people, Miss Brewster! You chose just +the right girls for each part in the pageant.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_73">[73]</div> +<p>I didn’t acknowledge this compliment as I should +have, because I was wondering why our soldier man +had looked that way when we applauded him. He +would have slipped out of the side door when he +came off the stage, but I stopped him and made him +wait for the rest of the program. A national fraternity +was holding a convention in town that week +and members from all the great colleges were in attendance. +As it happened, our Major is a member +of that fraternity, and, as a mark of esteem for the +Camp Fire Girls, he asked the fraternity glee club +to sing for us at the close of our patriotic demonstration.</p> +<p>The singers came frolicking in from some banquet +they had been attending, in a very frisky mood, and +sang one funny song after another until our sides +ached from laughing. I stole a glance now and then +at Private Kittredge, beside me, but he never noticed. +He was drinking in the antics of those carefree +college boys with envious, wistful eyes. At the +end of their concert the singers turned and faced the +great flag that hung down at the back of the stage +and sang an old college song that we had heard sung +before, but which had suddenly taken on a new, deep +meaning. With their very souls in their voices they +sang it:</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_74">[74]</div> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“Red is for Harvard in that grand old flag,</p> +<p class="t0">Columbia can have her white and blue;</p> +<p class="t0">And dear old Yale will never fail</p> +<p class="t0">To stand by her color true;</p> +<p class="t0">Penn and Cornell amid the shot and shell</p> +<p class="t0">Were fighting for that torn and tattered rag,</p> +<p class="t0">And our college cheer will be</p> +<p class="t0">‘My Country, ‘tis of Thee,’</p> +<p class="t0">And Old Glory will be our college flag!”</p> +</div> +<p>The effect was electrical. Everybody cheered +until they were hoarse. I looked at Private Kittredge. +His head was buried in his hands and the +tears were trickling out between his fingers. I was +too much embarrassed to say anything, and I just +sat looking at him until, all of a sudden, he sat up, +and reaching out his hand he caught hold of mine +and squeezed it until it hurt.</p> +<p>“I’m going back,” he said brokenly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div> +<p>“Going back?” I repeated, bewildered. “Where?”</p> +<p>“Back to camp,” he replied. Then he began to +speak in a low, husky voice. “I want to tell you +something,” he said. “I’m not what you think I am. +I’m a deserter. That is, I would have been by tomorrow. +My leave expires to-night. I wasn’t going +back. I didn’t want to go into the army. I didn’t +want to fight for the country. I hated the United +States. It had never given me a square deal. My +father was killed in a factory when I was a baby +and my mother never got a cent out of it. She +wasn’t strong and she worked herself to death trying +to support herself and me. I grew up in an +orphan asylum where everybody was down on me +and made me do all the unpleasant jobs, and at +twelve I was adrift in the world. I sold papers in +the streets and managed to make a living, but one +night I went out with a crowd of boys and some +of the older ones knocked a man down and stole +his money and the police caught the whole bunch +and we were sent to the Reformatory. After that I +had a hard time trying to make an honest living +because people don’t like to hire anyone that’s been +in the Reformatory. I never had any fun the way +other boys did. I had to live in cheap boarding +places because I didn’t earn much and nobody that +was decent seemed to care to associate with me. I +was sick of living that way and wanted to go away +to South America where no one would know about +the Reformatory, and make a clean start. Then I +was drafted. I hated army life, too. All the other +fellows got mail and boxes from home and had a +big fuss made over them and I didn’t have a soul +to write to me or send me things. I was given a +good deal of kitchen duty to do and everybody looks +down on that. I kept getting sorer and sorer all the +time and at last I decided to desert. I got a three-days’ +leave and made up my mind that I wouldn’t go +back. I was just hanging around the street killing +time this afternoon when I saw a crowd and stopped +to see what the excitement was about. Then all of +a sudden you looked at me and motioned me to come +over and help you raise the flag. It was the first time +I had ever touched the Stars and Stripes. When the +folds fell around my shoulders before she went sailing +up, something wakened in me that I had never +felt before. I couldn’t believe it was I, standing +there raising the flag with all those people cheering. +It intoxicated me and carried me along with the +parade when it went to the armory. Then again, +like the hand of fate, you came out and pulled me in +and made me speak to the girls. I had never spoken +before anyone in my life. I had never ‘been in’ +anything. It made another man of me. All of a +sudden I found I did love my country after all. I +<i>did</i> have something to fight for. I <i>did</i> belong somewhere. +It <i>did</i> thrill me to see Old Glory fluttering +out in the wind. That was my country’s flag, <i>my</i> +flag. I was willing to die for it. I’m going back to +camp to-night,” he finished simply.</p> +<p>I gripped his hands silently, too moved to +speak.</p> +<p>All the while we were talking there the crowd +had been busy getting their things together and going +out and nobody paid any attention to us sitting +there in the shadow under the gallery. Now, however, +I was aware of somebody approaching directly, +and along came the Mayor, gracious and smiling, to +shake hands with the speaker of the afternoon.</p> +<p>“Those were rattling good stories you told,” he +said in his hearty way. “I say, won’t you be a guest +at a little dinner the frat brothers are giving this +evening, and tell them to the boys? That’s the kind +of stuff everybody’s interested in.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div> +<p>And off went the man who had never had a +chance, arm in arm with the Mayor, to be guest of +honor at a dinner in the finest hotel in the city!</p> +<p>Jiminy! Do you see what the Winnebagos have +gone and done? They’ve saved a man from being +a deserter! I’ve promised to write to him and get +the rest of the girls to write and send him things, +and I’ll bet that he’ll be loyal to the flag to the last +gasp.</p> +<p>Now aren’t you glad you’re a Winnebago?</p> +<p><span class="center">Your loving old pal,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Sahwah.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Nov. 15, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Winnebagos:</span></p> +<p>You don’t happen to know of anyone that would +like to employ a good country schoolma’am for the +rest of the term, do you? I’m fired; that is, I’ll +wager all my earthly possessions that I will be at the +next session of the Board. The prophet hath spoken +truly; and you can’t make a silk-purse-carrying +schoolmarm out of Katherine Adams.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div> +<p>This morning I woke up with a glouch, which is +a combination of a gloom and a grouch, and worse +than either. It didn’t improve it to have to go to +school on such a crisp, cool, ten-mile-walk day and +listen to Clarissa Butts stammer out a paragraph in +the reader about vegetation around extinct volcanoes, +and all the while trying to keep my eye on the +rest of the pupils, who were not listening, but throwing +spitballs at each other. The worst of it was +I didn’t blame them a bit for not listening. Why +on earth can’t they put something interesting into +school readers? Even I, with my insatiable thirst +for information, gagged on vegetation around extinct +volcanoes. Clarissa’s paragraph drew to a +halting close and finally stopped with a rising inflection, +regardless of my oft-repeated instructions how +to behave in the presence of a period, and I had to +go through the daily process of correction, which +ended as usual with Clarissa in tears and me wondering +why I was born.</p> +<p>The next little girl took up the tale in a droning +sing-song that was almost as bad as Clarissa’s halting +delivery, and fed the Glouch until he was twice +his original size. The climax came when Absalom +Butts, by some feat of legerdemain, pulled the bottom +out of his desk and his books suddenly fell to +the floor with a crash that shattered the nerves of +the entire class. Absalom and some of the other +boys snickered out loud; the girls looked at me with +anxious expectancy.</p> +<p>I sat up very straight. “Class attention!” I commanded, +rapping with my ruler. “Close books and +put them away,” I ordered next.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div> +<p>Books and papers made a fluttering disappearance, +through which the long-drawn sniffs of Clarissa +Butts were plainly audible.</p> +<p>“Get your hats and form in line for dismissal,” +was the next order that fell on their startled ears.</p> +<p>“She’s going to send us home,” came to my hearing +in a sibilant whisper. Clarissa’s sniffs became +gurgling sobs as she took her place in the apprehensive +line.</p> +<p>“Forward march, and halt outside the door!” I +drove them out like sheep before me and then I +came out and banged the door shut with a vicious +slam. Passing between the two files I divided the +ranks into sheep and goats, left and right.</p> +<p>“Class attention!” I called again. “Do you all +see that dark spot over there?” said I, pointing to the +dim line of trees that marked the beginning of +the woods, some seven miles distant.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Adams,” came the wondering +reply.</p> +<p>“Well,” I continued, “the left half of the line will +take the road around Spencer way, and the right +half will take the road around the other way, and +the half that gets there last will have to give a show +to amuse the winners. We’re going to have a hike, +and a picnic. You all have your lunch baskets, +haven’t you?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div> +<p>For a minute they stood dazed, looking at me as +if they thought I had lost my senses. Clarissa +stopped short in the middle of a sob to gape open-mouthed. +Come to think of it, I don’t believe she +ever did finish that sob. I repeated my directions, +and taking the youngest girl by the hand I started +one half of the line down the road, calling over my +shoulder to the other line that they might as well +make up their stunts on the way, because they were +going to get beaten. But after all it was our side +that got there last, because we were mostly girls and +I had to carry the littlest ones over some of the +rough places.</p> +<p>I sent the boys to gather wood and built up a big +fire, and then I proceeded to initiate the crowd into +some of the mysteries of camp cookery. I daubed a +chicken with clay and baked it with the feathers on, +like we used to do last summer on Ellen’s Isle, and +it would have been splendid if it hadn’t been for one +small oversight. I forgot to split the chicken open +and take the insides out before I put the clay on.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div> +<p>After dinner it was up to me to produce a show +in obedience to my own mandate. None of the rest +on my side could help me out, because not one of the +blessed chicks had ever done a “stunt” in their +lives. The only “prop” I had was a bright red tie, +so I proceeded to do the stunt about the goat that +ate the two red shirts right off the line—you remember +the way Sahwah used to bring the house down +with it? Well, I had just got to the part where “he +heard the whistle; was in great pain——” and, accompanying +the action to the music, was down on +all fours giving a lifelike imitation of a goat tied to +a railroad track, while the delighted boys and girls +were doubled up in all stages of mirth, when I heard +a sound that resembled the last gasp of a dying elephant. +I jumped to my feet and whirled around, +and there in the offing were anchored—anchored is +the only expression that fits because they were literally +rooted to the spot—the entire school board of +Spencer township, plus two strange men plus Justice +Sherman. The board members and the strangers +stood with their jaws dropped down on their chests +and their eyes popping out of their heads; Justice +had his handkerchief over his mouth and was shaking +from head to foot like a sapling in a high wind. +I gave a gasp of dismay which resulted in further +developments, for I had the whole red tie stuffed +into my mouth with which to flag the train when the +time came, and the minute I opened my mouth it billowed +out in the breeze. That was the finishing +touch. I might have explained away the quadruped +attitude as a gymnastic pose, but it takes considerable +of an artist to explain away a mouthful of red tie +in a schoolmarm. Besides that, I was mud from +head to foot, having slid about ten feet for the +home plate in a baseball game we had before dinner, +so that I presented a front elevation in natural clay +effect, broken here and there with elderberries in +bas-relief, which had adhered when the can was accidentally +spilled over me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div> +<p>Being acutely conscious of all these facts in every +corner of my anatomy did not add to my ease of +manner, but I said as nonchalantly as I could, “How +do you do, Mr. Butts? How do you do, gentlemen?” +Then I added rather lamely, “Pleasant day, +is it not?”</p> +<p>Mr. Butts exploded into the same sort of snort +as had interrupted me in time to prevent the goat +from flagging the train.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div> +<p>“Miss Adams,” he said severely, when he had recovered +his breath sufficiently to speak, “what does +this mean? Why ain’t you teaching school to-day? +Here comes these here two fellers——” and he +jerked his thumb in the direction of the two +strangers—“from the new school board over to +Sabot Junction, to visit our school, and I takes them +over to the schoolhouse and finds it empty and no +sign of you or the class. Fine doin’s, them! These +fellers had their trip for nothin’ and they were pretty +mad about it I can tell you, and so I thinks I’ll drive +them over to Kenridge to the schoolhouse there and +here on the way I runs into you in the woods, acting +like a lunytic. I always said Bill Adams’s daughter +was plumb crazy and now I’m sure of it.”</p> +<p>I stood aghast. How was I to explain to an irate +school board that neither I nor the children had felt +like going to school to-day and had decided to have +a picnic instead, and that the “lunytic actin’s” was +Sahwah’s famous stunt, enacted to add to the hilarity +of the occasion? I threw an appealing glance at +Justice Sherman, and he sobered up enough to speak.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div> +<p>“You don’t understand, Mr. Butts,” he said hastily. +“Miss Adams <i>is</i> teaching school to-day. She is +teaching the children botany and it is sometimes +necessary to go out into the woods and study right +from Nature. I heard her say that she was going +to take the children out the first fine day.”</p> +<p>This was outrageous fibbing, but nobly done in a +good cause. It was of no avail, however, for Absalom +Butts promptly called out importantly, “It +ain’t either no botany class; it’s a picnic. She made +us put our books away when we didn’t want to and +come out here.” And he made an impudent grimace +at me, accompanied with the usual taunting grin.</p> +<p>Right here I had another surprise of my young +life. No sooner had the craven Absalom turned +state’s evidence when there rose from the masses an +unexpected champion. As Elijah Butts began to express +his opinion of my “carryin’s on” in no veiled +terms, his daughter Clarissa, developing a hitherto +undreamed of amount of spirit, suddenly threw her +arms around my waist and stood there stamping her +feet with anger.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div> +<p>“She ain’t a lunatic, she ain’t a lunatic,” she +shrilled above her father’s gruff tones, “she’s nice +and I love her!” After which astounding confession +she melted into tears and stood there sobbing +and hugging the breath out of me. To my greater +astonishment all the other girls immediately followed +suit and gathered around me with shielding +caresses, turning defiant faces to the upbraiding +school board members. The boys made themselves +very inconspicuous in the rear, but I caught more +than one glowering look cast in the direction of Absalom.</p> +<p>Before this demonstration of affection, Mr. Butts +paused in astonishment, and, having hesitated, was +lost. He felt he was no longer cock of the walk, +and in dignified silence led the way to the surrey +standing in the road, with the rest of the school +board members and the visitors stalking after. I +watched them climb in and drive away, and then the +reaction set in and I sat down on the ground and +laughed until I cried, while the girls, not sure +whether I was laughing or crying, alternately giggled +convulsively and soothingly bade me “never +mind.” I sat up finally and shook the hair out of +my eyes and then I discovered that Justice Sherman +had not departed with the rest of the delegation, +but was sitting on the ground not far away, still +shaking with laughter and wiping his eyes on a red-bordered +napkin that had strayed out of a lunch +basket. A sudden suspicion seized me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div> +<p>“Justice,” I cried severely, “did you do it?”</p> +<p>“Did I do what?” he asked in a startled tone.</p> +<p>“Find out I was off on a picnic and bring the +Board down to visit me?”</p> +<p>Justice threw out his hands in a gesture of denial. +“‘Thou canst not say I did it, never shake +thy gory locks at me,’” he declaimed feelingly. +“Where did they come from? They dropped, fair +one, like the gentle rain from heaven, upon the place +beneath. They came first to my humble dispensary +of learning, anxious to show the visiting Solons what +a bargain they had captured, and listened feelingly +while I conducted a Latin lesson, which impressed +them so much they invited me to come along +while they gave you the ‘once over.’ You never +saw such an expression in your life as there was on +the face of Mr. Butts when he arrived at your place +and found it empty. I will remember it to my dying +day.</p> +<p>“But what on earth <i>were</i> you doing when we +found you in the woods?” he finished in a mystified +tone.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div> +<p>Then I told him about Sahwah’s goat that ate the +two red shirts right off the line, and again he +laughed until he was weak.</p> +<p>“Some schoolma’am you, for visiting committees +to make notes on!” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“I’m discharged, of course,” I remarked, after a +moment’s silence.</p> +<p>“Oh, maybe not,” said Justice soothingly, as we +reached home, and he turned off to go to his +cabin.</p> +<p>“I don’t care if I am,” I cried savagely. “I hate +that old Board so I wouldn’t work for them another +day.” And I stalked into the house with my head +in the air.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div> +<p>But somehow, after I had eaten my supper and +begun to write this letter, I began to feel differently. +The way the girls stood up for me this afternoon +changed my whole attitude toward school teaching. +To find out that they actually loved me was the +biggest surprise I had ever had in my life. I had +hated them so thoroughly along with the school +teaching that it had never occurred to me that they +did not feel the same way toward me. I suddenly +hated myself for my impatience with their stupidity. +Of course they were stupid—how could they be +otherwise, poor, pitiful, ill-clad, overworked creatures, +coming from such homes as they did? I +stopped despising them and was filled only with pity +for the narrow, colorless lives they led. That afternoon +when they had told me, shyly and wistfully, +how much they enjoyed my teaching, I was filled +with guilty pangs, because I knew just how much +<i>I</i> had enjoyed it. That impromptu picnic had quite +won their hearts and broken down the barriers between +us, and the trouble it had gotten me into +crystallized their affection into expression. Now +the ice was broken, and I would be able to get more +out of them than ever before. The prospect of +teaching began to have compensations.</p> +<p>Then suddenly I remembered. I would be discharged +after the next meeting of the Board. I +would have no opportunity of getting better acquainted +with my pupils and leading them in the +pleasant paths of knowledge. Just when the drink +began to taste sweet I had to go and upset the +cup!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div> +<p>And your Katherine, who had hated teaching the +poor whites so fiercely all these months, buried her +head on her arms and cried bitterly at the thought +of having to give it up!</p> +<p><span class="center">Yours, in tears,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div> +<h3>HINPOHA TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">Brownell College, Nov. 25, 19—.</span></p> +<div class="img"> +<img src="images/pig.png" alt="Clumsy Line Drawing of a Pig" width="372" height="157" /> +</div> +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Katherine:</span></p> +<p>At first glance I don’t suppose you will recognize +this sweet little creature, but you ought to, seeing +you are his own mother. It’s the Pig you drew +with your eyes shut in Glady’s PIG BOOK last +year. Gladys brought the PIG BOOK along with +her and the other day we got it out and found your +poor little Piggy with the mournful inscription +under him, “Where is My Wandering Pig To-night?” +He looked so sad and lonesome we knew +he was simply pining away for you. His ink has +faded perceptibly and he is just a shadow of his +former emphatic self. Migwan looked at it and +said, “What charade does it make you think of?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div> +<p>It was just as plain as the nose on your face, and +we all shouted at once, “Pork-you-pine!”</p> +<p>We couldn’t bear to leave him there to die of +grief and longing, so we transferred him tenderly +to this letter and are sending him to his mumsey by +Special Delivery. We hope he will pick up immediately +upon arrival.</p> +<p>We had Lamb’s <i>Dissertation on Roast Pig</i> in +Literature the other day and were asked to comment +upon it, and Agony wrote that she didn’t think +much of a dissertation on Pig that was written by +a Lamb; she thought Bacon could have handled the +subject much better!</p> +<p>As ever, your +Hinpoha.</p> +<p>P. S. Here is Piggy’s tail; +<img src="images/tail.png" alt="Line Drawing of Pig’s Tail" width="58" height="39" /> +we found it in a corner of the page after we had him transferred.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Dec. 3, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dear Winnies:</span></p> +<p>Hurray! I’m not fired. Why, I wasn’t I never +will be able to figure out, but it’s so. A week after +the Picnic the Board sat, but not on me. For a +while I lived in hourly expectation of forcible eviction, +but nothing happened, and I heard from Justice, +who stands high in the favor of Elijah Butts +and gets inside information about school matters, +that nothing was going to be done about it. If +Justice had any further details he wouldn’t divulge +them.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div> +<p>Justice is a queer chap. Although he talks nonsense +incessantly, you can get very little information +out of him. And the way he puts up with all +kinds of inconveniences without complaint is wonderful +to me. He must be accustomed to far +different surroundings, and yet from his attitude +you’d think his little cabin out beyond the stables +was the one place on earth he’d select for an abode. +He never even mentioned the fact that the roof +leaked badly until I went out there to fetch him and +discovered him on top patching it. Then I went +inside to see what else could be improved, and the +bare, tumble-down-ness of the place struck me forcibly. +Light shone through chinks in the walls, the +door sill was warped one way and the door another, +and there was no sign of the pane that had once been +in the window. It was simply a dilapidated cabin, +and made no pretence of being anything else. How +he could live in it was more than I could see. No +light at night but a kerosene lamp, no furniture except +what he himself had made from boards, boxes +and logs; no carpet on the rough, rotting floor. +Why did he choose to live in this cell when he might +have taken rooms with any of the school board +members over in Spencer?</p> +<p>It was on this occasion that I saw the rough board +table under the one window, strewn with pencils, +compasses and sheets of paper covered with strange +lines and figures.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” I asked curiously.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div> +<p>“Nothing, that amounts to anything,” replied Justice, +with a queer, dry little laugh. “Once I was +fool enough to believe that it did amount to something.” +He swept the papers together and threw +them face downward on the table.</p> +<p>“Tell me about it,” I said coaxingly, scenting a +secret, possibly a clue to his past.</p> +<p>Justice stared out of the open door for a few +moments, his shoulders slumped into a discouraged +curve, his face moody and resentful. Then suddenly +he threw back his head and squared his shoulders. +“It’s nothing,” he said shortly. “Only, once +I thought I had a brilliant idea, and tried to patent +it. Then I found out I wasn’t as smart as I thought +I was, that’s all.”</p> +<p>“What did you invent?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Oh, just an old electrical device—you probably +wouldn’t understand the workings of it—to be used +in connection with wireless apparatus. It was a +thing for recording vibrations and by its use a deaf +man could receive wireless messages. I worked four +years perfecting it and then thought my fortune was +made. But nobody would back me on it. They all +laughed at the thing. I got so disgusted one day +that I threw the thing into the sad sea. Four +years’ work went up at one splash! That was the +end of my career as an inventor.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div> +<p>Poor Justice! I sympathized with him so hard +that I hardly knew what to say. I knew what that +failure must have meant to his proud, sensitive soul. +The first failure is always such a blow. It takes +considerable experience in failing to be able to do it +gracefully. I could see that he didn’t want any voluble +sympathy from me and that it was such a sore +subject that he’d rather not talk about it. I didn’t +know what to say. Then my eye fell on the sheets +on the table. “What are you inventing now?” I +asked, to break the silence that was growing awkward.</p> +<p>“Just working on bits of things,” he replied, “to +pass the time away. You can’t experiment with +wireless now, you know.”</p> +<p>The confidences Justice had made to me almost +drove my errand out of my head. It was rather +breathless, this having a new side of him turn up +every little while. I returned to my original quest +for information.</p> +<p>“I came for expert advice,” I remarked.</p> +<p>Justice looked up inquiringly. “Shoot,” he said.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div> +<p>“Do you suppose,” I inquired in a perplexed tone, +“that they’d enjoy it just as much if the costumes +have to be imaginary?”</p> +<p>Justice’s face suddenly became contorted. +“They’d probably enjoy wearing, ah—er imaginary +costumes if the weather is warm enough,” he replied, +carefully avoiding my eye.</p> +<p>“Justice Sherman!” I exploded, laughing in spite +of myself. “You know very well what I mean. I +mean can we have a Ceremonial Meeting in blue +calico and imagine it’s Ceremonial costumes?”</p> +<p>Justice scratched his head. “It depends upon how +much imagination ‘we’ have,” he remarked. “Now, +for instance, I know someone not a hundred miles +from here who can imagine herself in her college +room when it’s only make believe, and can do wonderful +work in French and mathematics. She——”</p> +<p>“That’s enough from you,” I interrupted. “The +matter is settled. We’ll have a Ceremonial Meeting. +We’ll pretend we’ve gone traveling and have +left our Ceremonial dresses at home. We’re a war-time +group, anyhow, and ought to do without +things.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div> +<p>There now! The secret is out! Your poor stick +of a Katherine is a real Camp Fire Guardian. I +wasn’t going to tell you at first, but I’m afraid I +will have to come to you for advice very often. I +have organized my girls into a group and they are +entering upon the time of their young lives. Make +the hand sign of fire when you meet us, and greet +us with the countersign, for we be of the same kindred. +Magic spell of Wohelo! By its power even +the poor spirited Hard-uppers have become sisters +of the incomparable Winnebagos. Wo-He-Lo for +aye! We are the tribe of Wenonah, the Eldest +Daughter, and our tepee is the schoolhouse.</p> +<p>Of course, as Camp Fire Groups go, we are a very +poor sister. We haven’t any costumes, any headbands, +any honor beads, or any Camp Fire adornments +of any kind. I advanced the money to pay +the dues, and that was all I could afford. There +are so few ways of making money here and most +of the families are so poor that I’m afraid we’ll +never have much to do with. But the girls are so +taken up with the idea of Camp Fire that it’s a +joy to see them. In all their shiftless, drudging +lives it had never once occurred to them that there +was any fun to be gotten out of work. It’s like +opening up a new world to them. Do you know, I’ve +discovered why they never did the homework I +used to give to them. It’s because they never had +any time at home. There were always so many +chores to do. Their people begrudged them the time +that they had to be in school and wouldn’t hear of +any additional time being taken for lessons afterward.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div> +<p>As soon as I heard that I changed the lessons +around so they could do all their studying in school. +Besides that, I looked some of the schoolbooks in the +face and decided that they were hopelessly behind +the times, Elijah Butts to the contrary. They were +the same books that had been used in this section +for twenty-five years.</p> +<p>“What is the use,” I said aloud to the spider +weaving a web across my desk, “of teaching people +antiquated geography and cheap, incorrect editions +of history when the thing they need most is to learn +how to cook and sew and wash and iron so as to +make their homes livable? Why should they waste +their precious time reading about things that happened +a thousand years ago when they might be +taking an active part in the stirring history that is +being made every day in these times? Blind, stubborn, +moth-eaten old fogies!” I exclaimed, shaking +my fist in the direction of Spencer, where the Board +sat.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div> +<p>Right then and there I scrapped the time-honored +curriculum and made out a truly Winnebago one. +It kept the fundamentals, but in addition it included +cooking, sewing, table setting, bed making, camp +cookery, singing of popular songs, folk dancing, +hiking and stunts. Yes sir, stunts! I teach them +stunts as carefully as I teach them spelling and arithmetic. +Can you imagine anyone who has never done +a stunt in all their lives?</p> +<p>We rigged up a cook stove inside the schoolhouse—if +you’d ever see it! The stovepipe comes +down every day at the most critical moment. Besides +that we have a stone oven outside. Every single +day is a picnic. As all of us have to bring our +lunch we turned the noon hour into a cooking lesson, +and two different girls act as hostesses each +day. The boys bring the wood and do the rough +work and are our guests at dinner. They all behave +pretty well except Absalom Butts, who is given +to practical jokes. But as the rest of the boys side +in with me against him, he gets very little applause +for his pains and very little help in his mischief. +The noon dinners continue to be the chief attraction +at the little school at the cross roads. Hardly +anybody is ever absent now.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div> +<p>I arranged the new schedule so that while I am +teaching the girls the things which are of interest to +them alone the boys have something else to do that +appeals to them. I give them more advanced arithmetic, +and have worked out a system of honor marks +for those who do extra problems, with a prize promised +at the end of the year. Then I got hold of an +old copy of Dan Beard’s <i>New Ideas for Boys</i> and +have turned them loose on that, letting them make +anything they choose, and giving credit marks according +to how well they accomplish it.</p> +<p>You see what a job I have ahead of me as a Camp +Fire Guardian? In order to teach my girls what +they must know to win honors, I have had to turn +the whole school system inside out, and then, because +I couldn’t bear to leave the boys out in the cold +while the girls are having such a good time, I have +to keep thinking up things for them to do, too. It +stretches my ingenuity to the breaking point sometimes +to get everything in, and keep all sides even.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div> +<p>One afternoon each week I have the girls give to +Red Cross work. Every Saturday I drive all the +way over to Thomasville, where the nearest Red +Cross headquarters branch is, for gauze to make +surgical dressings, returning the finished ones the +next week. Here’s where dull-witted Clarissa Butts +outshines all the brighter girls. She can make those +dressings faster and better than any of us and her +face is fairly radiant while she is working on them. +I have made her inspector over the rest to see that +there are no wrinkles and no loose threads, and she +nearly bursts with importance. For once in her +life she is head of the class.</p> +<p>While they fold bandages I read to them about +what is going on in the war and what the Red Cross +is doing everywhere, and we have beautiful times. +The worst trouble around here is getting up to date +things to read. There isn’t a library within fifty +miles and the only books we have are the few I can +manage to buy and those that Justice Sherman has. +Would you mind sending out a magazine once in a +while after you have finished reading it?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_104">[104]</div> +<p>We had our first ceremonial meeting last night in +blue calico instead of ceremonial gowns, but it +didn’t make a mite of difference. We felt the magic +spell of it just the same and promised with all our +hearts to seek beauty and give service and all the +other things in the Wood Gatherers’ Desire. That +is the wonderful thing about Camp Fire. It makes +you have exactly the same feelings whether you learn +it in a mansion or in a shack, in an exclusive girls’ +school or in a third-rate country schoolhouse. If +Nyoda only could have seen us! Of all people to +whom I had expected to pass on the Torch, this +group of Arkansas Hard-Uppers would have been +the very last to occur to me. Was this what she +meant, I wonder?</p> +<p><span class="center">Yours, trying hard to be a Torch Bearer,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_105">[105]</div> +<h3>HINPOHA TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">Dec. 15, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Darling Katherine:</span></p> +<p>There’s no use talking, I can never be the same +again. My life is wrecked—ruined—blighted; my +heart is broken, my faith in Man shattered, but try +as I like I can’t forget him. His image is graven +on my heart, and there it will be until I die. But +for all that, I hate him—hate him—hate him! I +don’t want to be unpatriotic, but I do hope he gets +killed in the very first battle he’s in. Then at least +<i>she</i> won’t have him! But a few short weeks ago I +was a mere child, playing at life, a schoolgirl, carefree +and heedless, with no other thought in the world +beside winning the freshman basketball championship +and surviving midyear’s; to-day I am a woman, +old in experience, having eaten the fruit of +the tree of knowledge and found it bitter as gall. +And I must bear it all alone, because if I told the +girls here they would laugh at me, and some would +be spiteful enough to be glad about it. But I have +to tell somebody or explode, and I know you will +neither laugh nor tell anybody, being a perfect +Tombstone on secrets.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_106">[106]</div> +<p>It’s really all Agony and Oh-Pshaw’s fault anyway, +for being born. Not that that actually had +anything to do with it, but if they hadn’t been born +they wouldn’t have had any birthday, and if they +hadn’t had any birthday they wouldn’t have given +that box party to the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS +and I never would have met Captain Bannister.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div> +<p>You will readily understand, Katherine, how I +burn to serve my country at a time like this. There +is nothing I would not do to save her from the +clutches of the enemy. It is all very well to say that +woman’s part in the war is to knit socks and sweaters +and fold bandages and conserve the Food Supply, +for that is all that the average woman would be +capable of doing anyhow, but as for me, I know that +my part is to be a much more definite and a far +nobler one. Of course, I do all the other things, +too, along with the other Winnies and the whole +college, for that matter; joined the Patriotic League, +go to Red Cross two nights a week and go without +sugar and wheat as much as possible. When I +wrote and told Nyoda that I hadn’t eaten one speck +of candy for three months except what was given +me and was sending the money I usually spent for +it to the Belgians, she said I ought to have the +Cross of the Legion of Honor, and that “greater +love hath no man than this, that he give up the +craving of his stomach for his country.” You see, +Nyoda understands perfectly what it means to have +an awful candy hunger gnawing at your vitals like +the vulture at the giant’s liver and look the other +way when you go past a window full of your favorite +bon-bons. But somehow candy doesn’t seem so +satisfying when you know there are little Belgian +and French children suffering from a much worse +gnawing than candy hunger, and usually dropping +the price of a box of bonbons into the Relief Fund +stops the craving almost as much as the bonbons +themselves would.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div> +<p>But this is only doing what thousands of other +girls all over the country are doing and there isn’t +any individual glory in it. What I long to do is +carry the message that saves the army from destruction, +or discover the spy at his nefarious work. If +only the chance would come for me to do something +like that I could die happy.</p> +<p>Agony and Oh-Pshaw’s birthday celebration was +quite an event. We had luncheon first at the Golden +Dragon, a wonderful new Chinese restaurant that +was recently opened, and had chop suey and chow +main and other funny things in a little stall lit up +with a gorgeous blue and gold lantern. Of course, +after that luncheon and the funny toasts we made to +the long life and health of Agony and Oh-Pshaw, +we felt pretty frolicsome, and by the time we got +settled in our seats at the Opera House we were +ready to start something. Our seats were in the first +row of the balcony, center aisle, and very prominent. +I had my knitting along as usual, intending to do +a few rows between the acts. I always knit in public +places; it sets a good example to other people. +Besides, my new knitting bag is too sweet for anything.</p> +<p>I had just got started knitting in the intermission +between the first and second acts when the orchestra +began to play “Over There,” and Agony got an +inspiration. “Let’s all stand up,” she whispered, +“and see how many people will bite and stand up, +too.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div> +<p>So, stifling our giggles, we sprang promptly to +our feet and stood stiffly at attention. In less than +a minute more than half of the audience, not knowing +why they should stand up for that piece, but +blindly following our lead, gathered up their hats, +wraps and programs in their arms and dutifully +stood up. Then as soon as they were standing we +sat down and laughed at the poor dupes, who sat +down in a hurry when they saw us, looking terribly +foolish. I haven’t seen anything so funny in a long +time.</p> +<p>“Stop laughing,” said Gladys, giving me a poke +with her elbow. “You’re shaking the seat so I’m +getting seasick.” But I couldn’t stop.</p> +<p>“Look out, Hinpoha, there goes your knitting,” +said Migwan. “Catch it, somebody!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div> +<p>But it was too late. When we stood up I had laid +the sock and the ball of yarn on the broad, low rail +in front of us, and now the ball had rolled over +the edge and dropped down into the audience below, +right into the lap of a young man who was sitting +on the end seat. He looked up in great surprise and +everybody laughed. They just <i>roared</i>! There I +stood, leaning over the balcony, hanging on to the +sock for dear life and trying to keep it from raveling, +and there he stood down below holding onto +the ball, and plainly puzzled what to do with it.</p> +<p>“Throw down the sock, silly,” whispered Agony, +reaching over and pulling my sleeve. “Do you think +he’s going to throw up the ball?”</p> +<p>I dropped the sock and the man caught it in his +other hand and stood there laughing, as he started +to wind up the yards and yards of yarn between the +ball and the sock. When he had it wound up he +brought it upstairs to me. I went out into the corridor +to get it. Then for the first time I got a good +look at the man. He was dressed in uniform and +wore an officer’s cap. He was very tall and slim, +with black eyes and hair and a small black mustache.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div> +<p>“Here, patriotic little knitting lady,” he said, making +a deep bow and handing me my knitting. I +looked up into his handsome, smiling face, and little +needle points began pricking in my spine. His eyes +met mine, he smiled, blushed to the roots of his +hair and looked away. All in one instant I knew. +I had met my fate. This was my Man, my own. +I felt faint and light-headed and all I could see +was his black eyes shining like stars. His deep, +thrilling voice still rang in my ears. With another +low bow he turned to leave me.</p> +<p>“Captain Bannister, at your service,” he said.</p> +<p>I went back to my seat with my head swimming. +“Patriotic little knitting lady,” I found myself whispering +under my breath. The girls suddenly seemed +awfully young and silly as they sat there giggling at +me and at each other. My mind was above all such +childish things; it was soaring up in the blue realms +of true love. I was glad he was tall and thin. I +think fat girls should marry thin men, don’t you? +And he was dark, too, just the right mate for redheaded +me. And he was a Captain in the army! +How the other girls would envy me! Some of them +had friends who were lieutenants and were quite +uppish about it, but none that I knew had a Captain.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div> +<p>Then at another thought my heart stood still. +Suppose he should be killed? I pictured myself in +deep mourning, wearing on my breast the medal he +had won for bravery, which with his dying breath +he had asked his comrades to send to “my wife!” +I couldn’t help brushing away a tear then and was +quite bewildered when Agony poked me and wanted +to know if I wasn’t ever going to make a move +to go home. The show was over and the people +were streaming out. I hadn’t seen a bit of the last +two acts.</p> +<p>Down in the lobby I saw Him again. He was +standing by the door talking to another man in +uniform. How he stood out among all other men! +He was one out of a thousand. My heart beat to +suffocation and I couldn’t raise my eyes. In a moment +more I must pass him. I tried to look straight +ahead, but something I couldn’t resist drew my head +around and I turned and looked straight into his +eyes. He tilted back his head and gave me one long, +thrilling glance, raised his hand to his cap, then +blushed and looked down. Just then Gladys pulled +at my sleeve and dragged me over to some girls we +knew and we were swept out with the crowd to the +sidewalk.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div> +<p>I scarcely knew where I was going. My feet +walked along between Gladys and Migwan, but my +soul was in the clouds, listening to strains of +heavenly music, while the others squabbled over ice +cream flavors and who should stand treat after the +show. Ice cream! Ye gods! Who could eat ice +cream with their soul seething in love?</p> +<p>From that hour when I had looked into Captain +Bannister’s eyes and read the truth in them, I was a +changed being. I listened in silence to the idle +chatter of the girls around me as we walked to and +from classes. Their souls were wrapped up in their +knitting, in their lessons, in their meals. Agony and +Oh-Pshaw were trying to learn a new and difficult +back dive and they talked of nothing else night and +day. They were constantly at me to come and try +it, too, but I sat loftily apart, hugging my delicious +secret. As it says in the poem we learned in literature +class:</p> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“What were the garden bowers of Thebes to me?”</p> +</div> +<p>Like Semele, I scorned the sports of mortals and +thought only of my Beloved. I didn’t envy her a +bit because her Love was Jupiter. What was Jupiter +compared to Captain Bannister?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div> +<p>Twice I had seen him since that day in the theater—had +spoken to him, in fact. He was stationed in +the recruiting office and one day I happened to be +walking past with old Professor Remie and he knew +him and stopped and talked and introduced me. As +if we needed any introduction! We chatted of commonplaces, +but all the while our eyes told volumes. +However, soul cannot speak to soul in a public recruiting +station where curious eyes are looking on.</p> +<p>I had an errand uptown every day after that. +Only once did I see him as I passed the recruiting +station, however. Then he was throwing out a +Socialist who had tried to stop the recruiting and he +didn’t see me.</p> +<p>But the next day there came a perfectly huge +box of chocolates, addressed quaintly to “Miss Bradford, +Somewhere in Purgatory.” Inside the box +was a card which read:</p> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“The strand you dropped with careless art</p> +<p class="t0">Has wound itself around my heart.”</p> +</div> +<p>Underneath was written “Captain Bannister,” in a +bold, masculine hand.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div> +<p>I buried the chocolates in the depths of my shirtwaist +box where no profane eye could see them or +profane tooth bite into them. I didn’t mean to be +selfish, but I just couldn’t bear to pass <i>his</i> chocolates +around to the crowd and hear Agony’s delighted +squeal as she dove into them,</p> +<p>“Come on, girls, have one on Hinpoha’s latest +crush!”</p> +<p>For Agony has absolutely no understanding of +affairs of the heart—everything is a “crush” to +her.</p> +<p>The chocolates were fine and I ate a great many +of them, thinking of my Captain all the while, and +wondering when I would see him again.</p> +<p>“Hinpoha, what on earth is the matter with you?” +said Gladys that night. “You didn’t eat a bite of +supper and you’re as pale as a ghost. Have you upset +your stomach again?”</p> +<p>I drew myself up haughtily. The idea! To call +this delicious turmoil in my bosom an upset stomach! +I was glad I looked pale. I am usually as red +as a beet. It was more in keeping with the way I +felt to be pale.</p> +<p>“I am not myself,” I replied loftily, “but it’s not +my stomach.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div> +<p>“Go to bed, honey,” said Gladys, “and I’ll bring +you a glass of hot water.”</p> +<p>I curled up in bed with Captain Bannister’s card +in my hand under the pillow. I was so happy I felt +dizzy. Gladys came back with the hot water and +made me drink it in spite of my protests, and, +strange to say, I felt much calmer after it.</p> +<p>Needless to say, I couldn’t pin my mind down on +my lessons. I did such queer things that people +began to notice it. For instance, mild old Professor +Remie, the chemistry teacher, handed back my paper +one day after he had given us a written lesson on +the Atomic Theory, and inquired in a puzzled tone +if I had meant just what I wrote. I glanced at it +and blushed furiously when I realized that I had +written down some lines that had been running +through my head all day:</p> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“Why do I fearfully cling to thee, Maidenhood?</p> +<p class="t0">’Tis but a pearl to be cast in thy waves, O Love!”</p> +</div> +<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div> +<p>Then one day the word went around that He was +coming to make a speech in the college chapel. How +my heart fluttered! I could hardly sit still in the +seat when he came out on the platform. It seemed +as if everyone could hear what my heart was saying. +Soon that deep voice of his was filling the room, +thrilling me with unearthly things. Again and +again his eyes sought mine, full of joyous recognition, +of love and longing. I smiled reassuringly, +trying to telegraph the message, “Be patient, all will +be well.”</p> +<p>To myself I was singing, “O Captain, my Captain!”</p> +<p>Unknown to himself, I had seen him before he +came into chapel. I was stooping down in the +shadow of the gymnasium steps, tying my shoestring, +when he came along the walk and was met +by Dr. Thorn, our President. They stood there and +talked a minute and I heard Captain Bannister say +that he was going to Washington that afternoon on +the five o’clock train and that he was going directly +from the college to the station. He carried a small +black handbag, which Dr. Thorn offered to relieve +him of, but he said no, he didn’t want to leave it out +of his hand even for a minute, there were valuable +papers in it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div> +<p>When he came out on the platform I noticed that +he had the bag with him. He set it down on the +table while he talked and never got very far away +from it. I looked at that bag with deep interest. +What was in it? Something terribly important, I +knew. I thrilled with pride that my Captain should +have such great things to look after, and longed to +be of service to him.</p> +<p>His speech came to an end all too soon for me, +who could have gone on listening for a week, and he +went out before the rest of us were dismissed. No +chance to speak to me or give me one word of farewell +for the brief separation; only one long, lingering +look between us that left me shaken to the soul. +Now I knew what the Poet meant when he spoke of +“the troth of glance and glance.”</p> +<p>I wandered around by myself after he had gone. +I didn’t desire to speak to any of the girls or have +them speak to me. I just wanted to be by myself. +Roaming thus I came to the little rustic summerhouse +in the park behind the college buildings, and +stopped in to rest a moment. It was a lovely mild +day, not a bit like winter, and not too cold to sit in +a summerhouse and dream. I didn’t sit down, +though. For on the bark-covered bench I spied +something that brought my heart up into my mouth. +It was Captain Bannister’s bag. No doubt about it. +There was his name on a card tied to the handle. +How came it here? They must have shown him +around the grounds after his speech and in some way +he had put the bag down in here and then gone off +and forgotten it. How dreadful he would feel when +he found it out!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div> +<p>My mind was made up in a minute. Here was a +real chance to “Give Service.” If I hurried I could +get down to the station and catch him before he got +on the train. I made sure from the watchman that +he had left the college grounds. I looked at my +wrist watch. It was quarter to five. Without a +moment’s hesitation I picked up the bag and ran +out to the street. I caught a car right away and sank +down in a seat breathless, but easy in my mind, because +the station was only a ten minutes’ ride in the +car.</p> +<p>Then, of course, something had to happen. A +sand wagon was in the cartrack ahead of us and +the motorman jingled his bell so furiously that the +driver got excited and pulled the lever that dumped +the whole load of sand on the car track.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div> +<p>I jumped out of the car and looked wildly up and +down the road to see if there was a taxi in sight. +There wasn’t; nothing but a motor truck from the +glue factory. There was something covered with +canvas in the back of it, and I knew instinctively +that it was a dead horse. Did I hesitate a second? +Not I. For the sake of my Captain and my country +I would have endured anything. I hailed the +driver. “I’ll give you a dollar if you’ll take me to +the station,” I panted.</p> +<p>The driver laughed out loud. “This is <i>some</i> depoe +hack,” he said, “but if <i>you</i> can stand it I guess <i>I</i> +can.”</p> +<p>With that he gave me a sidewise glance that was +meant to be admiring, I suppose, but I froze him +with a look and climbed gravely up beside him.</p> +<p>“It is very important that I be there in time for +the five o’clock train,” I remarked by way of explanation.</p> +<p>“You ain’t running away from school, are you?” +inquired the driver genially.</p> +<p>“I am <i>not</i>,” I replied frigidly, and looked loftily +past him for the remainder of the five minutes’ ride +to the station.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div> +<p>I flung the man the dollar and was out of the +truck before he had time to say a word, and raced +into the long waiting room of the station. I could +have shouted with relief when I saw on the blackboard +the notice that the five o’clock train for Washington +was forty minutes late. I was in time!</p> +<p>But where was Captain Bannister? Nowhere in +sight. I walked up and down the length of the waiting +room several times, growing more nervous every +minute. Suppose that he had discovered that he had +left the bag behind and gone back after it only to +find it gone? The thought made my blood run cold. +Would he come down to the train at all without the +bag? Would he not go back and search for it, +alarming the whole college? And all the while I had +it safe with me! What should I do? Should I go +back and run the risk of missing him, or stay and +see if he came? One thing I could do. I could +telephone back to the college and find out if he had +returned for it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div> +<p>I had just gotten inside the telephone booth and +was ringing up the number when there was a commotion +in the upper end of the waiting room and a +large party of people entered, men and women and +soldiers and young girls, laughing and shrieking and +pelting somebody with rice and old shoes. Soon +they came past the booth and I caught a glimpse of +the bride and groom. The telephone receiver fell +out of my hand and my heart stopped beating. For +there, in the midst of that crowd, laughing and +dodging the showers of rice, and hanging for dear +life to the arm of a pretty young girl in a traveling +suit, was Captain Bannister, my Captain! I shrank +back into the depths of the telephone booth and +struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. Bits of +talk floated in through the closed door.</p> +<p>“Thought you’d do it up quietly this morning and +then sneak out this afternoon without anybody finding +it out,” I heard a voice shout, as a fresh shower +of rice flew through the air.</p> +<p>“Went out and made a speech this afternoon, too, +just as unconcerned as if it wasn’t his wedding day,” +said another voice. “Pretty sly, Captain. They +ought to put you in the diplomatic service. You’d +be an ornament.”</p> +<p>I crouched miserably in the telephone booth, trying +to collect my scattered thoughts. My Captain +was married this morning! How I hated that pretty +girl clinging to him and laughing as the showers of +rice fell around her!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div> +<p>Then all of a sudden my hand touched the bag +on the floor. The papers! In the excitement of his +wedding day he had forgotten them! Well, even if +he had, I hadn’t. I would still serve my country if +it did nearly kill me to go out there and face Captain +Bannister. I shut my eyes and prayed for +strength. It would have been so easy to slip out +and throw the bag over the bridge into the river, +and get Captain Bannister into a bad predicament. +But I did not waver in my duty. Opening the door +of the booth softly, I crept out. Resolutely I approached +the crowd and walked right up to Captain +Bannister.</p> +<p>“Here are the papers, Captain Bannister,” I said +in a voice I tried to make coldly sarcastic, as is +fitting when talking to a man who has let his wedding +make him forget his country’s business.</p> +<p>Captain Bannister whirled around and faced me +with a look of astonishment that changed to annoyance +when he saw the bag. He did not offer to +take it from my outstretched hand. He could not +look into my eyes. He stood there, his face getting +redder every minute, while the people stared curiously. +At last he pulled himself together and took +the bag. “Thank you,” he said in a flat voice.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_124">[124]</div> +<p>A dozen hands pulled the bag away from him. +“Let’s see the papers, Banny,” called several voices. +“Are they the plans of your wedding journey or +your new home?”</p> +<p>He made a desperate effort to regain possession +of the bag, but they kept it away from him and +opened it. Then such a roar of laughter went up +as I have never heard. Everybody was laughing +but the bride, and she looked like a thundercloud. +Soon the things from the bag were being handed +around and I saw what they were. They were a +girl’s ballet dress, very flimsy and very short and +very much bespangled; a pair of light blue silk stockings +and a pair of high-heeled dancing slippers.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_125">[125]</div> +<p>Standing on the edge of the crowd I heard one +man explain to another, between snorts of laughter, +how Captain Bannister had taken part in a show that +the soldiers had given a week before and had worn +that ballet dress. His bride-to-be had been at the +show, and being a very straight-laced sort of a person +had been very much shocked at the men dressed +as girls. She didn’t know that Captain Bannister +had been one of them, and he didn’t intend that she +should find out. Some of his friends knew this and +for a joke they got hold of the handbag in which he +had packed his clothes for his wedding journey and +hid them away, putting in the ballet dress instead. +He found it out on the way out to the college, and +conceived the brilliant idea of leaving it there. He +figured that a suit like that found in a girls’ college +would cause no commotion; nothing like what would +happen if his bride should find it among his things. +But of all things—here the man who was telling +all this nearly turned inside out—somebody sees him +leave the bag behind and chases after him with it!</p> +<p>I fled without ever looking behind. My heart +was broken, my life wrecked, my hopes shattered. +My Captain, my Man, whose eyes had told me the +secret of his love, was pledged to another! If I +hadn’t known it beyond any doubt, I wouldn’t have +believed such perfidy possible. And the “valuable +papers” he was carrying around were nothing but +a girl’s dancing dress! For this I had raced to catch +the train, for this I had ridden on a truck with a +dead horse! No doubt he had lied to Dr. Thorn +about the bag, because he was afraid he would find +out what really was in it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_126">[126]</div> +<p>Righteous anger drowned my heartbroken tears. +With head high I wandered down to the swimming +pool in the gym and prepared to go in.</p> +<p>“Oh, Hinpoha, come and watch me do the new +back dive,” called Agony. She mounted the diving +platform and went off badly, striking the water with +the flat of her back and making a splash like a house +falling into the water. She righted herself and +swam around lazily.</p> +<p>“Hinpoha,” she said suddenly, popping her head +out of the water like a devil fish, “what did you ever +do with them all? I expected to get at least one.”</p> +<p>“What did I do with what?” I asked in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“Chocolates, sweet cherub,” said Agony, kicking +the water into foam with her feet. “I sent you five +pounds.”</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> sent them?” I echoed blankly.</p> +<p>“Yes, dearest child, I sent them, and it took the +last of my birthday check. Who did you think sent +them?” And with a malicious grin she sank down +under the surface of the water.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_127">[127]</div> +<p>So it had been Agony who had sent the chocolates, +and not Captain Bannister! I might have +known—— Oh, what a fool I had been!</p> +<p>“What did you do with them all?” came Agony’s +teasing voice from the other end of the pool, where +she had risen to take the air.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said mysteriously.</p> +<p>Agony looked at me gravely for a minute. +“Didn’t I hear Gladys putting you to bed that night +and going off for hot water?” she murmured dreamily. +“Seems to me I have a faint, far off recollection.” +She made little snorting noises, plainly in +imitation of a pig, and sank below the surface again.</p> +<p>I was filled with a blind fury at Agony. I wanted +to jump on her and choke her. I had been standing +on the diving board and on the spur of the moment +I went off backwards. I had only one thought in my +mind; to reach Agony and duck her as she deserved. +There was a great shout as I went off, followed by +a round of applause.</p> +<p>“What is it?” I asked, coming up and blinking +stupidly at the knot of watchers gathered around +the pool.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_128">[128]</div> +<p>“The Hawaiian dive!” they cried. “You did it +perfectly. Do it again.”</p> +<p>Agony came up out of the pool and watched enviously. +For four weeks she had been practising +that dive and hadn’t mastered it yet. I hadn’t ever +hoped to learn it. And here I had done it the very +first time! They made me do it again and again, +and clapped until the ceiling echoed as I got the +somersault in every time. It was glorious. I forgave +Agony for fooling me about the Captain; I +even forgave the Captain for the time being. <i>He</i> +could go off and get married if he wanted to; <i>I</i> +could do the Hawaiian back dive!</p> +<p>“How did you ever do it?” asked Agony enviously, +as we dressed together, “somersault and all? +Do you really think there’s any chance of my ever +doing it?”</p> +<p>“Sure, you’ll do it some day,” I replied out of +the fullness of my wisdom,—“if you get mad +enough.”</p> +<p><span class="center">Your broken-hearted,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Hinpoha.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_129">[129]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">Dec. 28, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest and Best of Winnies:</span></p> +<p>Oh, you angels without wings, how am I ever going +to thank you? How on earth did you manage +to do it all? Such a Christmas present!</p> +<p>When I saw that array of boxes in the express +office at Spencer all addressed to me I said to the +agent, “There’s some mistake. Those can’t possibly +be all mine.”</p> +<p>“You’re the only Katherine Adams in these parts, +aren’t you?” said the agent, eyeing that imposing +pile with unconcealed curiosity.</p> +<p>I admitted that I was, as far as I knew.</p> +<p>“Then they’re yours,” said the agent, and mine +they proved to be.</p> +<p>Altogether there was a wagonload.</p> +<p>“What on earth?” said father and Justice when +I drove up to the house. “Have you gone into the +trucking business?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_130">[130]</div> +<p>“Christmas presents, Father!” I shouted. “All +Christmas presents. I’ve got the whole of Santa +Claus’s load. Quick, bring me a hammer and an ax +and a jimmy!”</p> +<p>Oh, girls, when I saw what was in those first +three boxes I just sat down on the floor and wept for +joy. Only the Winnebagos could have thought of +sending me the House of the Open Door. There +were the Indian beds and Hinpoha’s bearskin and +all the Navajo blankets and the pottery, just as I +had seen it last in the Open Door Lodge, big as life +and twice as natural. And the note from Sahwah +that came along with them was a piece of Sahwah +herself.</p> +<p class="bq">“The things are lonesome,” she wrote, “and +pining for someone to love them and use them. +I am sending them to your new Camp Fire because +I know your girls will love them as they +deserve to be loved. The ghosts of all the good +times we had in the House of the Open Door +are hovering around the things, so anyone that +gets them can’t help falling under the old spell +and learning how to squeeze the most fun out +of every minute.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_131">[131]</div> +<p class="bq">“The gymnasium apparatus is the Sandwiches’ +Christmas present. It was Slim’s and +the Captain’s idea to send it out to you for your +girls and boys to use.</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="bq">“The House of the Open Door is being +turned into Red Cross work rooms for Camp +Fire Girls and we need every inch of space for +the work tables. Even our beloved Lodge is +Giving Service.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Gladys Evans, your father is an <i>angel</i>! He +doesn’t need to wait until he gets to heaven for his +halo, it’s visible a mile off, this minute! To think of +sending me a graphophone and a hundred records! +I simply can’t tell you what that is going to mean +to my school. I won’t be able to <i>drive</i> the boys and +girls away now!</p> +<p>And your mother! That lantern machine and the +slides showing the Red Cross work and all the other +splendid things is worth its weight in gold.</p> +<p>Oh, my dears! <i>Where</i> did you ever find time to +make those twelve ceremonial dresses?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div> +<blockquote> +<p>“FROM THE LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS +TO THE FIRST OF THE WENONAHS. LET +BIG SISTER WINNIE SEE THAT LITTLE +SISSY WEENIE IS PROPERLY CLOTHED.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I’ll bet anything your friend Agony wrote that. +I have a feeling that she and I are kindred spirits.</p> +<p>Won’t my girls revel in those beads and looms, +though?</p> +<p>BOOKS! Four whole cases of them! What on +earth have you done now?</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="center">“THE WINNEBAGO LIBRARY +<br />PASSED ON BY THOSE WHO KNOW AND LOVE GOOD BOOKS TO THOSE WHO WILL +SOON KNOW AND LOVE THEM”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>How did you do it? Asked a hundred girls to +give one book apiece? You don’t mean to say that +there are a hundred girls interested in us poor backwoods +folks out here in Spencer? I can’t believe it! +Oh, we’ll work and work and <i>work</i>, to prove ourselves +worthy of it all!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div> +<p>And oh, all those little personal pretties just for +me! Hinpoha, <i>where</i> did you find that darling pen-holder +with the parrot’s head on the end, and +Gladys, who told you that I broke my handglass +and was pining for a white ivory one?</p> +<p>And even a lump of sugar for Sandhelo and a +bow for Piggy’s tail! I admire the artist who drew +that bow.</p> +<p>The last box bore Nyoda’s return address. What +do you suppose was in it? Her chafing dish! The +very one she used to have in her room, that I used +to admire so much. Dear Nyoda! She knew I +would rather have that than anything else.</p> +<p>O my dears, there never <i>was</i> such a Christmas! +There never <i>will</i> be such a Christmas! Nobody ever +had such friends before. If I live to be a thousand +years old I’ll never be able to return one-tenth of +your kindness.</p> +<p><span class="center">Yours, swimming in ecstasy,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div> +<h3>GLADYS TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">March 25, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Katherine:</span></p> +<p>Listen, my beloved, while I sing you a song of +Migwan. She has awakened at last to find herself +famous, and the rest of us, by reason of reflected +glory, found ourselves looked upon as different from +all other animals, and wonderfully popular and run +after by five o’clock in the afternoon, like Old Man +Kangaroo. And, all precepts upon precepts to the +contrary, it wasn’t conscientiously applying herself +to her task that turned the trick, but deliberate shirking. +After all, though, it was mostly a matter of +chance, because if it hadn’t rained so that night last +October, Migwan would have gone to the library as +she should have, and the world would have lost a +priceless contribution to Indian lore.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_135">[135]</div> +<p>It happened thusly. One of Migwan’s cronies in +the sophomore class has a weak throat and a condition +in Indian History. On the night I have mentioned +she trickled tearfully into Migwan’s room +and confided that she simply had to have an Indian +legend to read in class the following day or be +marked zero. She had had all the week in which to +look one up in the library, but, according to immemorial +custom, she had left it for the last night. +Now it was raining pitchforks and she didn’t dare +go out, because she got a terrible attack of quinsy +every time there was an east wind. Migwan, like +the angel she is, promptly offered to go over and +hunt one up for her.</p> +<p>“What kind of an Indian legend?” she inquired.</p> +<p>“Oh, any kind,” replied Harriet carelessly, “so +long as it’s <i>Indian</i>. We’re studying the Soul of the +Savage as revealed by legend, or something like that. +Slip it under my door when you come back with it. +I’m going to bed and coddle my throat. Be sure you +don’t get one that’s too long,” she called back over +her shoulder, “remember there are twenty in the +class to help reveal the Savage Soul.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_136">[136]</div> +<p>Harriet ambled placidly back to her room and +Migwan began hunting through her closet for her +raincoat and rubbers. She didn’t find them, because +she had lent them to somebody the week before and +couldn’t remember whom she lent them to. She +looked out of the window at the torrents coming +down and decided that her little rocking chair by the +lamp held out more attraction than a trip to the +library. But she didn’t have the heart to disappoint +Harriet by not getting her an Indian legend to read +in class the next day, so she sat down and manufactured +one, which is as easy as rolling off a log +for Migwan. Harriet would never know the difference, +and neither would the teacher, off hand, +and a made-up legend would save the day for Harriet +as well as a genuine one. The chances were +she wouldn’t be called upon to read it anyway. You +never are, you know, when you’ve broken your neck +to be ready. Migwan slipped it under Harriet’s +door and then forgot all about it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div> +<p>Several weeks later, when the <i>Monthly Morterboard</i> +came out, there was Migwan’s Indian legend, +big as life. It had obviously been used to fill up +space and was not credited to the literary talent of +the college; but to Joseph Latoka, or “Standing +Pine,” the Penobscot Indian who had collected the +legends of his tribe into a book, which was in the +college library and which was our authority on +things Indian. Migwan laughed to herself over it, +but never gave away the fact that she had written it. +She discovered in a roundabout way that the Literary +Editor of the <i>Morterboard</i> had been in despair +over lack of material when the October number was +due, and told her tale of woe to Miss Percival, one +of the teachers, and asked her if she had any essays +fit to print. Miss Percival replied that she hadn’t +had a decent essay this semester, but a girl in one +of her classes had brought in a rather remarkable +Indian legend several days before, which might serve +to cast into the breach. The <i>Morterboard</i> editor +promptly hunted up Harriet and demanded the legend. +Harriet still had it among her goods and chattels, +and gave it to her readily, saying that it was +one of Joseph Latoka’s <i>Legends of the Penobscot +Indians</i>, which she honestly believed to be the fact. +The <i>Morterboard</i> editor took her word for it and +used the legend to fill up the chinks in the October +issue.</p> +<p class="center"><span class="gs">* * * * * *</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div> +<p>It was not long after this that Very Seldom paid +his annual visit to Brownell. His name really wasn’t +Very Seldom; it was Jeremiah Selden, but everybody +referred to him as Jerry, and it wasn’t long +before “Jerry Selden” became “Very Seldom.” He +used to be Professor of Sociology at Brownell, but +he had to give up lecturing because he lost his voice. +He was a sad little man with a plaintive droop to his +white mustache and only a whisper of a voice. He +had lost his whole family in some kind of a railroad +accident and always went around with such a +homeless air that everybody felt sorry for him. His +hobby was Indian History, Indian Legends and Indian +Relics. After he gave up teaching sociology +he took to writing books, dry old essays and that +sort of thing. Nobody ever read them, and he didn’t +make much out of them, but he kept plodding along, +always hoping that he would make a hit the next +time.</p> +<p>Once every year he came back to Brownell to +spend Sunday, to keep alive the memories of his +former life, he used to explain sentimentally. Miss +Allison, his successor as professor of sociology, and +who has him beat forty miles for teaching, always +entertained him at tea on the occasion of his visit, +and used to ask him stacks of questions, jollying +him along and making him believe she was in doubt +about a lot of things she knew better than he did. +Having his opinion consulted that way made him +feel quite cheerful and important, and his visit to +Brownell always put new life into him.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div> +<p>It happened that one Sunday afternoon Migwan +went to Miss Allison’s room to ask her about something +and ran into Very Seldom paying his annual +visit. Miss Allison herself wasn’t there. She had +been called out of town the night before and had +turned over the job of entertaining Very Seldom to +her room-mate, Miss Lee. Miss Lee taught mathematics +and didn’t care a rap about sociology, and +still less about Indians. Miss Lee is very fond of +Migwan, and invited her to stay to tea. Migwan is +forever getting asked to tea by the faculty; it’s because +she always gets her hair parted so straight in +the middle, and never upsets her teacup.</p> +<p>Migwan had heard about Very Seldom, and was +just as anxious to help cheer him up as anybody, but +this time he didn’t need any cheering. He was positively +radiant. He was talking about his latest book +and was nearly bursting with enthusiasm.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div> +<p>It seems that all his life he had been having an +argument with another Indian History shark as to +whether, before the coming of the white man to this +continent, the eastern Indians had ever lived on, or +visited the western plains. He maintained that they +had, while his friend insisted that they hadn’t. Just +recently he had read, in a magazine published by the +Indian Society of North America, a hitherto unpublished +legend of Joseph Latoka’s, a curious legend +of the White Buffalo. To his mind this proved +beyond a doubt that the Penobscot Indians had, at +some time or other, lived on or visited the Great +Plains, and had seen the Buffalo. It was the only +Penobscot legend that mentioned the buffalo as an +object of worship. He had immediately written +a monograph on the subject which was even then in +the hands of the publisher. It was a great point to +have discovered. Fame would come to him at last. +Very Seldom’s air of desolation had vanished; his +hour of triumph had come.</p> +<p>It was at this point that Migwan, the expert tea +drinker, suddenly upset her cup all over Miss Allison’s +cherished Mexican drawnwork lunchcloth. +That foolish legend that she had manufactured to +save herself a trip to the library in the rain had been +taken as authentic and had been copied from the +<i>Morterboard</i> into other magazines! At the time +she wrote it she was in too much of a hurry to pay +attention to any such trifles as the difference between +Eastern and Plains Indians. Anyway, she hadn’t +<i>said</i> anywhere that they were Penobscot Indians, it +was Harriet who had said so to the <i>Morterboard</i> +editor.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div> +<p>Several times during the evening she tried to tell +poor Very Seldom that the Legend of the White +Buffalo, which proved his point so conclusively, was +not a legend at all, but her own composition, +but each time the words choked her. The little +ex-Professor’s satisfaction was so great and his happiness +so supreme that she didn’t have the heart to +blot it out. The secret was hers. Everybody in college +believed that legend to have come from the collection +of Joseph Latoka. All the evening she debated +with herself whether or not she should tell, or +let the fake legend go down on record. In the end +the professor’s happiness won the day and she decided +not to mar his almost childish glee in his discovery.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div> +<p>“What does it matter, after all?” she thought. +“About three-fourths of the things that are written +about Indians aren’t true. Nobody will read his old +monograph anyway, so no harm will be done. If it +gives him so much pleasure to think he’s discovered +something, why spoil it all?” The whole matter +seemed so trivial to Migwan that it wasn’t worth +fussing about. Just what difference did it make to +the world, especially at this time, whether the eastern +Indians of the United States had ever visited the +western plains or not? It seemed about as important +as whether the Fourth Emperor of the Ming +Dynasty had carrots for dinner or parsnips. So she +went home without revealing the origin of the Legend +of the White Buffalo.</p> +<p>She thought the incident was decently interred, +and had forgotten all about it, when—pop! out came +Jack-in-the-box once more. Along in March came +the celebrated lecturer on Indian costumes, Dr. Burnett. +Handbills announcing his lecture were distributed +all over town a week before his coming. The +public was to be admitted and half the proceeds were +to go to the library fund. Migwan picked up one +of the handbills and glanced casually at the subject +of the lecture. Then her hair nearly turned green. +It was “The Legend of the White Buffalo,” based +on the book of the late Professor Jeremiah Selden!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div> +<p>The first fact that struck Migwan was that Very +Seldom was dead, which came as a shock of surprise. +Poor Very Seldom! He had found a home +at last. But before he went he had had his inning +and had died happy that he had contributed an important +link to the chains of Indian History.</p> +<p>Then Migwan realized what a horrible mess she +had started by writing that legend and keeping still +about it. If anybody ever found out about it now, +Dr. Burnett’s reputation would be ruined.</p> +<p>An hour before the lecture was to begin found +Migwan sitting in the parlor of the hotel waiting +for Dr. Burnett to come down in answer to the note +she sent up with a bellboy. He came presently, a +long-haired, Van Dyke-y sort of man, who smiled +genially at her and inquired affably what he could +do for the charming miss.</p> +<p>“If you please,” said Migwan breathlessly, “could +you give some other lecture just as well?”</p> +<p>“Could I give some other lecture just as well?” +repeated Dr. Burnett in perplexity.</p> +<p>“Yes,” Migwan went on desperately, trying to get +it over with quickly, “could you? You see, the +Legend of the White Buffalo isn’t a legend at all.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div> +<p>“The Legend of the White Buffalo <i>isn’t</i> a legend!” +repeated Dr. Burnett again, looking at Migwan +as if he thought she was not in her right mind. +“Pray, what is it?”</p> +<p>“It’s—it’s a fake,” said Migwan.</p> +<p>“A fake!” exclaimed Dr. Burnett, in astonishment. +“And how do you know it is a fake?”</p> +<p>“Because I wrote it myself,” said Migwan, trying +to break the news as gently as possible, “because +it was simply pouring, and Harriet had a sore +throat.”</p> +<p>“You wrote it yourself because it was simply +pouring and Harriet had a sore throat?” repeated +Dr. Burnett, now acting as if he were sure she was +out of her mind.</p> +<p>Then Migwan explained.</p> +<p>“But, my dear,” said Dr. Burnett, “you <i>couldn’t</i> +have written that legend. No white man could have +invented it. It is the very breath and spirit of the +Indian. In it the Soul of the Savage stands revealed.”</p> +<p>“But I <i>did</i>,” insisted Migwan, and finally succeeded +in convincing him that she was telling the +truth.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div> +<p>Dr. Burnett usually spent from one to three +months preparing a new lecture. He prepared one +that night in an hour that knocked the shine out of +all his previous ones. His speech entitled, “What +Chance Has a Man When a Woman Takes a Hand” +brought down the house. He told the story of the +fake legend, and the audience was alternately laughing +at the neat way Migwan had taken everybody +in and weeping at the way she wouldn’t spoil poor +Very Seldom’s pleasure.</p> +<p>Migwan was the heroine of the hour. The whole +college sought her acquaintance forthwith. Of +course, they found out all about the Winnebagos, +and how Migwan came to know so much about Indian +lore, and Hinpoha and I, being Winnebagos, +too, came in for our share of the glory. Our humble +apartment is filled to overflowing all day long +with girls who want to make Migwan’s acquaintance +and casually drop in on us in the hope of meeting her +in our chamber. It is great to be fellow-Winnebago +with a celebrity.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div> +<p>But I haven’t told you all yet. The day after the +lecture Dr. Burnett had a solemn conference with +that portion of the English Department which was +so fortunate to have Migwan in its classes, after +which Migwan was called in. She went with a kind +of scary feeling because she thought Dr. Burnett +might be going to have her arrested for perpetrating +the fake, but instead of that she was informed that +she showed such budding talent in composition and +had such a positive genius for portraying the soul +of the Indian that he wanted her to work with him +in his research work after she graduated from college. +She is to make a grand tour with him among +the real Indians on the reservations and get them to +tell tales of the old days as they remember them +from the legends of their fathers and then she is to +write them down to be published in a book.</p> +<p>Just imagine it! There is Migwan’s future all +cut out for her with a cookie cutter, all because she +was too lazy to go across the campus in the rain and +get a real legend for a sick friend. Isn’t life queer?</p> +<p><span class="center">Famously yours,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Gladys.</span></p> +<p>P. S. O Katherine, <i>mon amie</i>, why aren’t you +here? But from the tone of your last letters it seems +that you have become reconciled to your lonely lot. +So the “mysterious him” that came to you from out +the Vast is teaching you French and History and +reading Literature with you! Katherine Adams, +you sly puss, you’ll be better educated yet than we!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div> +<h3>SAHWAH TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">April 4, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest K:</span></p> +<p>You don’t need to think you’re the only one having +adventures with your work. Your little old +Sahwah is a sure enough grown up young lady now, +a real wage-earner, making her little track along the +Open Road, and frequently stepping into mud holes +and falling flat on her face. I’m “Miss Brewster” +now, in a tailored suit and plain shirtwaist, ready to +conquer the world with a notebook and typewriter. +I finished my course at the business college early in +February, and one day while I was in the last stages +of completion as a stenographer and nearly ready to +have a shipping tag pasted on me in the shape of a +graduation certificate, I was summoned into the private +office of Mr. Barrett, the head of the school.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div> +<p>I had a chill when the office girl brought me the +message. There were only two or three things you +were ever sent to Mr. Barrett for. One was failure +to pay your tuition; another was doing so poorly +in your work that you were a disgrace instead of a +credit to the school; another was for “skipping +school.” A number of the girls were in the habit +of cutting classes after lunch several days in the +week and either going to the matinee or running +around town with boys from the school. Many +complaints about this had come to Mr. Barrett from +the teachers, until he got so that he sent for everyone +who skipped and read them a stiff lecture. He is a +very stern, austere man, and the whole school stands +in dread of him.</p> +<p>I went over my list of sins when I was summoned +to the office. My tuition was paid up until +the end; there was no trouble there. It wouldn’t +be my lessons either; for, while I was far from being +the eighth wonder of the world on the typewriter, +I still had managed to stay in the “A” division +since the first. But—here my hair began to +stand on end—I had “skipped school” the afternoon +before. Slim had come home from college to attend +the funeral of his grandfather, and had called +me up and invited me to go automobiling with him +while he was waiting for his train to go back, and +you can guess what happened to Duty. I just naturally +skipped school and went with him. It was the +first and only time I had skipped in my whole career, +but I was evidently going to get my trimmings for it. +I went into the office with a sinking heart, for up +until this time I had managed to keep in Mr. Barrett’s +good graces, and I did pride myself quite a bit +on my unreproved state. But I made up my mind to +take it like a good sport—I had danced and now +I would pay the piper.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div> +<p>Having gone into the office in such a state of +mind, I wasn’t prepared for the shock when Mr. +Barrett looked up from his desk and greeted me with +a (for him) extremely amiable smile.</p> +<p>“Sit down, Miss Brewster,” he said pleasantly, +pulling up a chair for me beside his own.</p> +<p>I sat down. It was time, for my knees were giving +away under me.</p> +<p>“Miss Brewster,” Mr. Barrett began affably, “I +have here”—and he picked up a paper on which he +had made some notations—“a call for a stenographer +which is a little out of the ordinary line.” He +paused to let that sink in.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div> +<p>“Yes, sir,” I murmured respectfully. My heart +began to beat freely again. He wasn’t going to lecture +me about skipping school!</p> +<p>“Mrs. Osgood Harper,” continued Mr. Barrett +crisply, “telephoned me this morning personally, and +asked if I had a young lady whom I could send her +every day from nine until one to attend to her personal +correspondence. She is very particular about +the kind of person she wants; it must be someone +who is refined and educated, as well as a good stenographer, +for a good deal of her work will be social +correspondence. She also intimated that the girl +must be—er, reasonably good looking.”</p> +<p>He paused a second time and again I said meekly, +“Yes, sir.” There didn’t seem to be anything else +to say.</p> +<p>“I have carefully considered all the girls in the +finishing class,” continued Mr. Barrett, “and you +seem to be the only one I could consider for the +position. I know Mrs. Harper and know that in +some ways she will be hard to work for. But the +pay she offers is generous; better than you could do +as a beginner in a commercial house, and the hours +are excellent, nine to one, leaving your afternoons +free. Besides that, there will be the advantage to +yourself of coming in contact with such people as +the Harpers, and the pleasure of working in such +beautiful surroundings. You are a girl who will appreciate +such things. You know who the Harpers +are, of course?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div> +<p>I had never heard of them, but I was quite willing +to be enlightened. The Harpers, it seemed, were +in the first boatload of settlers that landed on our +town site; they had since accumulated such a fortune +that it made Pike’s Peak look like an ant hill; +and no matter what string Mrs. Harper harped on, +people were sure to sit still and listen. Now she +desired a personal stenographer of maidenly form, +and I, Sahwah the Sunfish, had been measured by +the awe-inspiring Mr. Barrett and found fit.</p> +<p>My feelings as I came out of the office were far +different from those with which I went in. I entered +with a guilty droop; I came out with my head +in the air. I hadn’t dreamed of getting such a position +to start with. I had pictured myself as beginning +at the bottom in some big office and slowly +working to the top. But to begin my career by doing +the private work of Mrs. Osgood Harper! It +seemed like some fairy tale. I tried to think of +something to say to Mr. Barrett to thank him for +having recommended me for the position, but the +shock had sent my wits skylarking, and the only +thing that came into my head was that song that we +used to sing:</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div> +<blockquote> +<p>“Out of a city of six million people, why did you +pick upon me?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and that, of course, was impossible as a noble sentiment.</p> +<p>The next morning I set out on my Joyous Venture. +The Osgood Harpers lived on the Heights in +a great colonial house set up high on a hill and approached +by long, winding walks. It was more than +a mile from the street-car, but I enjoyed the walk +through those beautiful estates. I couldn’t have +served a tennis ball in any direction without hitting +a millionaire.</p> +<p>Mrs. Harper was a stout and tremendously impressive +lady about forty years old. She had steely +blue eyes that looked right through me until I began +to have horrible fears that there was something +wrong with my appearance and she would presently +say that I would not do at all. But she didn’t; all +she said was, “So you are Miss Brewster, are you?” +and motioned me to sit down at a writing table.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div> +<p>She had received me in a cozy little sitting room +which opened out of her bedroom, and it seemed +that this was to be my office. She started right in +to lay out my work for me and I didn’t have much +time to look around at the beautiful furnishings. +The work was far different from anything we had +had in school, but very interesting, and I took to it +from the start. Mrs. Harper is chairman of countless +committees, and secretary of several societies, +and there were quantities of notices to send out to +committee members, and letters to write to business +men soliciting subscriptions to various funds and +things like that, all to be written on heavy linen +paper of finest quality, bearing the Harper monogram +in embossed gold in the upper left-hand corner.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_154">[154]</div> +<p>I worked away with a will and the morning hours +flew. I would have worked right on past one o’clock +without knowing it if there hadn’t been an interruption. +Shortly after noon the door opened and +a girl of about seventeen walked in. She was extremely +pretty; that is, at first glance she was. She +was very fair, with bright pink cheeks and big blue +eyes. Her yellow hair was plastered down over her +forehead in an exaggerated style, and monstrous +pearl earrings dangled from her ears. She had evidently +just come in from outdoors, for she wore +an all mink coat and held a mink cap in her hand. +Without a glance in my direction she began chatting +to Mrs. Harper in a thin, nasal, high-pitched +voice. I dropped my eyes and went on with my +work. In a minute I could feel her staring at me.</p> +<p>“Ethel,” said Mrs. Harper, as soon as she could +get the floor, “this is Miss Brewster, my stenographer. +Miss Brewster, my daughter Ethel.”</p> +<p>I acknowledged the introduction pleasantly; Miss +Ethel favored me with another stare, murmured +something in an indistinct tone and then immediately +turned her back on me and went on talking to +her mother. Right then and there my admiration +for the “first families” got a setback; I didn’t admire +Ethel Harper’s manners, not a little bit. She +had “snob” written all over her features. I could +see that she classed me with the servants and as such +she didn’t trouble herself to be polite to me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_155">[155]</div> +<p>“A lot there is to be gained by associating with +<i>her</i>,” I said to myself. “I’ll be just as cool and dignified +as possible when <i>she’s</i> around. She won’t get +another chance to snub me.”</p> +<p>But in spite of her I was enthusiastic about the +position and could hardly wait until I got there the +next day. Mrs. Harper went out shortly after I +arrived and I worked alone. Ethel Harper came +home from school at noon and went through the +room on the way to her mother’s, but I rattled away +on the typewriter and never looked up. She came +out soon and went into her own room, which was +on the other side. In about fifteen minutes I heard +her call me.</p> +<p>“Miss Brewster!” I stopped typing.</p> +<p>“What is it?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Come here,” she called, and her voice sounded +impatient.</p> +<p>I stepped across the hall into her room. She was +standing in front of the mirror putting on a ruffled +taffeta dress, which she was struggling to adjust.</p> +<p>“Hook me up!” she commanded, without the formality +of saying “Please.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_156">[156]</div> +<p>I had it on the end of my tongue to tell her that +I was a stenographer, not a lady’s maid, but I remembered +“Give Service” in time, and hooked her +up without a word. She never even said “Thank +you!” She just sat down at her dressing table and +began pencilling her eyebrows. Evidently it must +have been the maid’s day out, for she called me in +again later to pin her collar.</p> +<p>“Have I got too much color on my face?” she +asked languidly, dabbing away at her cheeks with +some red stuff out of a box in front of her. Then +she put carmine on her lips, a sort of whitewash on +her nose and forehead and finished it with some +pencilled shadows under her eyes. All I could think +of was Eeny-Meeny, the time we gave her that coat +of war paint.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked milady while I was fastening +her collar, poking her finger at my Torch Bearer’s +pin.</p> +<p>“It’s a Camp Fire pin,” I replied.</p> +<p>“What’s Camp Fire?” she demanded idly.</p> +<p>I explained briefly what Camp Fire was.</p> +<p>“Gee,” said Ethel elegantly, “none of that for +mine!” And she picked up her eyebrow pencil +again and did a little more frescoing.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_157">[157]</div> +<p>I went back to my work in disgust. I was so +disappointed in Ethel Harper. I had expected that +the daughter of such a fine family would be a real +lady in every sense of the word—cultured, genuine, +thoroughbred; and she had turned out to be nothing +but a cheap imitation—slangy, ill-bred, snobbish, +overdressed and made up like an actress. Beyond +her pretty, baby doll face there was nothing to her. +There wasn’t an ounce of brains in her poor flat +head.</p> +<p>And yet, she was tremendously popular in her own +snobbish set, as I could gather from conversations +around me, and by the invitations she was constantly +receiving to festivities. Although she was not formally +out in society, I knew that she went out to +dances with men very often, when her mother +thought that she was spending the night with girl +friends. I found that out from telephone conversations +Ethel carried on when her mother was out +of the way. It was plain to be seen that Ethel had +only one ambition in the world, and that was to have +a good time, regardless of how she got it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_158">[158]</div> +<p>It wasn’t any of my business, of course, but I +couldn’t help wondering what Mrs. Harper would +do if she knew about some of Ethel’s little excursions. +Mrs. Harper had a flinty sort of nature and +you only had to look into those cold eyes of hers to +know that it would go hard with anyone who had +displeased her. One morning I had a good chance +to see her when she was roused. A Cloisonné +locket belonging to Mrs. Harper had disappeared +from her jewel box and she had accused her maid, +Clarice, of taking it. Clarice, frightened out of her +wits, was tearfully protesting her innocence, but +Mrs. Harper towered over her like a fury, threatening +to hand her over to the police. Ethel, sitting in +a rocking chair polishing her finger nails, listened +indifferently. I felt embarrassed to witness this +painful scene and stood irresolute, unable to decide +whether to go out or stay, when Mrs. Harper turned +to me and said, “Make out a check for Clarice’s +wages for the month and deduct twenty-five dollars +from it, the value of the locket she stole. Then insert +an advertisement in the papers for a new maid.”</p> +<p>Clarice, with a fresh burst of grief, declared again +that she knew nothing about the locket, and begged +not to be sent away with a black character, because +she had a paralyzed sister to support, but Mrs. Harper +was unmoved. Out went Clarice, bag and baggage, +crying as she went and still declaring her innocence.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_159">[159]</div> +<p>“These maids will steal you blind, if you give +them a chance,” said Mrs. Harper, still bristling +with anger.</p> +<p>“I never did like Clarice,” remarked Ethel with +a yawn.</p> +<p>The next day Mrs. Harper went out during the +morning and Ethel called me to help her pack her +visiting bag. She was going to spend the week-end +with a girl friend. No new maid had come to take +Clarice’s place as yet, so Ethel took advantage of +my not having much work to do for her mother +that morning to press me into service.</p> +<p>“I can’t find my wrist watch,” she said as I +came in. “I don’t know whether I put it in the bag +or not, and I haven’t time to look. Will you look +through the bag while I finish dressing?”</p> +<p>I pawed carefully through the bag, and brought +to light, not the wrist watch, but the Cloisonné +locket, which Mrs. Harper had accused Clarice of +taking.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_160">[160]</div> +<p>“Why, Ethel,” I said delightedly, “here is your +mother’s locket! Clarice didn’t steal it after all. +It was down in your bag.”</p> +<p>“I know it was,” said Ethel coolly. “I put it +there.”</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> put it there?” I echoed. “Did you find it, +then?”</p> +<p>Ethel laughed disagreeably. “I had it all the +while,” she said. “I’m going to a dance to-night +that mamma doesn’t know anything about, and +I’ve set my heart on wearing that locket. Mamma +will never let me wear it; it was brought to her +from Paris by an old friend that’s dead now, and +she’s afraid I’ll lose it. So I just took it out of +her jewel box the other day and made her believe +Clarice took it.”</p> +<p>“Ethel!” I exclaimed in horror. “How could +you? How could you sit there and hear your mother +accuse poor Clarice of taking it?”</p> +<p>Ethel shrugged her shoulders. “I never did like +Clarice,” she said. “She was an impertinent piece. +It served her right. Put the locket back in the bag. +I’ve got to start in a minute.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_161">[161]</div> +<p>But I didn’t budge. I stood looking at her until +she looked the other way. With all her millions +and all her fine connections, I despised Ethel Harper +as if she had been a crawling worm. I didn’t want +to get mixed up in anything that wasn’t my business, +but I had no intention of letting poor Clarice +remain under a cloud.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to put it back in the bag,” I replied +firmly. “I’m going to take it right back to +your mother when she comes home. She must +know that it isn’t stolen so she can make things +right with Clarice.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you dare tell mamma,” said Ethel furiously. +“She’ll kill me if she knows I’ve got it. +Give it to me, I say.” She tried to snatch it out +of my hand, but I kept hold of it. “Give it to me, +you impertinent little stenographer, you!” she +shrieked.</p> +<p>It was getting disgraceful. I tried to save a +shred of dignity. I laid the locket on the dresser +and faced Ethel steadily. I still had a vivid memory +of Clarice’s distressed face as she went out +that day.</p> +<p>“You have done Clarice a wrong,” I said firmly, +“and it must be righted. I’ll give you your choice. +Either you take the locket back to your mother or +I’ll tell her where it is.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_162">[162]</div> +<p>Ethel changed her tactics and tried to bribe me. +“I’ll give you a dozen pairs of silk stockings if you +don’t say anything to mamma about it and let her +go on thinking it’s stolen, so I can wear it whenever +I please,” she offered.</p> +<p>I longed to choke her. “Don’t you try to bribe +me, Ethel Harper,” I said severely. “I’ve got a +code of honor, even if I am a poor stenographer, +which is more than you have, with all your millions.”</p> +<p>“Some more of your Campfire stuff,” she said +sneeringly.</p> +<p>“You bet it is ‘Campfire stuff,’” I replied hotly. +“You see that little pin? One of things it says is +‘Be trustworthy.’ If I let Clarice be unjustly accused +I wouldn’t be worthy of that pin. Remember! +Either you tell your mother or I do.” And I +started for the door.</p> +<p>Ethel changed her tune again and began to cry. +“Everybody is so horrid to me,” she sobbed. +“Mamma will never let me go anywhere I want to +go or wear what I want to wear, and the servants +won’t do what I tell them. Even my mother’s +stenographer bosses me around! I wish I was +dead!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div> +<p>But I was firm in my championship of Clarice. +“You’ll have to tell,” I repeated. “I see your +mother coming in now.”</p> +<p>Ethel began to look frightened. “I’ll not tell her +I took it, she’d kill me,” she whined. “I’ll tell her I +just found it and she can take back what she said to +Clarice.”</p> +<p>I looked her steadily in the eyes. She flushed +and looked down.</p> +<p>“I suppose you’ll go and tell anyway, you old +tattletale,” she said savagely. “I’ll get even with +you for this, see if I don’t!” She ran out of the +room and I didn’t see her again for several days.</p> +<p>However, I knew the locket had gone back where +it belonged, because Mrs. Harper had me send +Clarice a check for twenty-five dollars, with the +brief statement that the locket had been found. +Right there was where I lost some of my regard +for Mrs. Harper. She never apologized to Clarice +for accusing her wrongfully; never offered to do +anything to make it up to her. She just sent that +cold little note and the check. A real thoroughbred +would have acknowledged herself to be in the +wrong, but Mrs. Harper couldn’t bring herself to +apologize to a servant. The affair blew over and +I never heard Clarice mentioned again.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div> +<p>I grew to like my work more and more, as the +days went by, and gradually learned to handle quite +a bit of it myself. Mrs. Harper was very busy; +she did a great deal of Red Cross and other war +work, besides keeping up in all her clubs, and she +got into the habit of telling me what to say to +people and letting me write the letters myself. +Early in March she went out of town to a convention +and left me with a great many letters to write +to various people, telling me to sign her name for +her. I took very great pains with all those letters +so as to be sure to say the right things to the right +people, and I felt satisfied when the week was out +that I had done myself credit.</p> +<p>Accordingly, it struck me like a thunderbolt when, +several days after her return, Mrs. Harper came to +me, blazing with anger, and demanded to know +what I meant by writing such letters in her absence. +Startled, I asked her what she referred to.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div> +<p>“You wrote Mr. Samuel Butler that if he didn’t +hurry and pay up his subscription to the Red Cross +Mr. Harper would pay it for him and take it out +of his next bill,” said Mrs. Harper furiously. “Mr. +Butler is insulted and has withdrawn his subscription +of ten thousand dollars to the Perkins Settlement +House, which I am trying so hard to establish. +Whatever possessed you to write such a letter?”</p> +<p>“I never wrote a letter like that,” I replied with +spirit. “I wrote Mr. Butler a very polite, respectful +reminder that his pledge was due this month; I +never mentioned Mr. Harper or anything about paying +it and taking the amount out of any bill.”</p> +<p>I was completely at sea.</p> +<p>“You <i>did</i> write that letter!” declared Mrs. Harper +angrily. “How dare you deny it? Mr. Butler +showed it to me. It was written on this very stationery, +on this typewriter with the green ribbon, +and signed with my name in the way you sign it. +You wrote it to be funny, I suppose. Well, I can +tell you that I can’t have anything like that. I won’t +have any further need for your services.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div> +<p>She was so positive I had written it that I began +to have an awful feeling that I might have written +it in my sleep. You know what strange things I +do in my sleep sometimes. But all the while I knew +who had done it. Ethel Harper had sworn to get +even with me for making her tell her mother about +the locket. She had written that letter in place of +the one I had written. I remembered that one day +while Mrs. Harper was away I had been called +downstairs and kept talking for over an hour to one +of Mrs. Harper’s committee members who had undertaken +to distribute some literature and came for +instructions. During that time Ethel would have +had plenty of chance to read through my mail upstairs.</p> +<p>I started to tell Mrs. Harper that I suspected +someone else of writing it, intending to lead gently +up to the subject of Ethel, but Mrs. Harper scoffed +at the idea.</p> +<p>“There isn’t anyone else in the house who can run +the typewriter,” she said flatly.</p> +<p>This was untrue. Ethel could run it; she had +done so several times when I was there. But what +was the use of accusing Ethel when her mother +wouldn’t believe it anyway? I realized the hopelessness +of trying to convince Mrs. Harper of something +she didn’t want to believe.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div> +<p>“And further,” continued Mrs. Harper, “I have +found that you have not been attending strictly to +business. Ethel tells me that you often go over to +her room when she is there and stand and talk to +her instead of giving your time to my work.”</p> +<p>“Little snake-in-the-grass!” I thought vengefully. +I had never gone to her room unless she had called +me to do something.</p> +<p>I made up my mind I wouldn’t stay there another +minute. I didn’t have to work for such people. +I drew myself up stiffly. “If you believe such +things, Mrs. Harper,” I said icily, “there can be no +business relations between us. I shall not even take +the trouble to prove the truth about that letter. I +shall go immediately.” And go I did. I knew Mr. +Barrett would be very much put out over the affair, +because he seemed to think Mrs. Harper had done +his school an honor by hiring one of his pupils, but +what was I to do? Stay there and be the scapegoat +for all Ethel’s sins. Not while I had feet to +walk away on.</p> +<p>As I went down the steps I met Ethel coming +up. She looked at me with a meaning expression +and a triumphant smile. She had kept her word and +gotten even with me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div> +<p>I felt badly over it, of course, for who can lose +a good position and not be cut up about it? I suppose +I must have looked pretty doleful for a couple +of days, because I met Mrs. Anderson, that friend +of Nyoda’s, who used to lend us so many “props” +for our Winnebago performances, on the street and +she asked me right away what was the matter.</p> +<p>“You’re lonesome for those friends of yours,” +she went on, without giving me a chance to answer. +“I’m lonesome, too,” she went on. “My husband +has been in Washington all winter. Come out and +spend a few days with me. You used to be pretty +good company, if I remember rightly.”</p> +<p>She persuaded me and I went. You remember +the Anderson place out on the East Shore, don’t +you? We were all out there once last year. Perfect +duck of a house all made of soft gray shingles +and seven acres of garden and woods around it. I +tramped all over the place through the March mud, +looking for signs of spring, and had a perfectly +glorious time.</p> +<p>“There’s one sign of spring, over there,” said +Mrs. Anderson, who was with me on one of my +tramps.</p> +<p>“Where?” I asked, looking around.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div> +<p>“Young man’s fancy,” said Mrs. Anderson with +a laugh of tolerant amusement, “lightly turning to +thoughts of love. Look up on the barn there.”</p> +<p>I looked where she pointed, and saw a boy of +about eighteen standing on the roof of the barn +gazing off into space through a field glass. He +had a white flag tied to his right wrist, which he +was waving over his head, like the soldiers do when +they signal.</p> +<p>“Who is he and what is he doing?” I asked.</p> +<p>“That’s Peter, the boy who helps around the +stable,” replied Mrs. Anderson. “He’s sending messages +to his lady love. A certain combination of +flourishes means ‘I love you,’ and another means +‘Meet me to-night,’ and so on. He told John, my +chauffeur, about it, and John told me.”</p> +<p>“How silly!” said I, with a laugh for poor lovesick +Peter. “Who is the object of his affection?”</p> +<p>“Some servant girl from the next estate,” replied +Mrs. Anderson. “They carry on their affair +through field glasses and with signals. They think +they are having a thrilling romance.”</p> +<p>“Disgusting!” said I. “How could any girl make +such a fool of herself where everybody can see +her!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div> +<p>Mrs. Anderson laughed indulgently, but I could +feel her scorn underneath it. “Some girls will sell +every scrap of dignity they have for what they consider +a good time, my dear,” she said, laying her +hand on my arm in a motherly way.</p> +<p>We left Romeo on the barn flourishing out his +messages in the late March sunshine and wandered +over to the next estate. There was a new litter of +prize bull pups over there and Mrs. Anderson had +promised that I should see them before I went home. +A creek divided the two estates, which we crossed +on a little foot bridge. The path led along beside +the creek for a while until the little stream widened +out into a beautiful pond, big enough for boating. +A pier had been built at one side of the pond, running +out into the water. Someone was standing +out on the end of the pier, and as we came up we +saw that we had discovered the other half of the +romance. A girl, with a field glass held to her +eyes and a white flag tied around her right wrist, +was signalling in the direction of the Anderson +barn, the roof of which was visible in the distance, +beyond Mrs. Anderson’s apple orchard.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div> +<p>Something about the girl was familiar, even in the +distance, and as we came near I recognized the mink +coat that I had seen many times lately. There was +no doubt about it. The girl on the end of the pier +was Ethel Harper. I stood still, too much disgusted +to speak. Ethel Harper, the daughter of one of the +“first” families, with the best social position in the +city, her mother prominent in all great uplift movements, +carrying on a vulgar flirtation with Mrs. +Anderson’s stable boy! So this was the great romance +she had been hinting about at various times! +Randall—that was the name of the girl she was +intimate with; this was the Randall place. She had +been coming here so often for the sake of the boy +next door. Did she know he was an ignorant servant? +I doubted it. Anything in men’s clothes set +her silly head awhirl. I wished her haughty mother +could have seen her then.</p> +<p>Mrs. Anderson suddenly laughed out loud and +at that Ethel turned around and saw us. She gave +a great start as she recognized me, took a step backward +and fell off the end of the pier into the pond, +disappearing with a shriek into the deep water.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div> +<p>I slipped out of my coat, threw off my shoes and +went in after her. The water was so icy I could +hardly swim at first. When I did get hold of her +it was a battle royal to get her back to the pier. +She was so weighted down by the fur coat and she +struggled so fiercely that several times I thought +we were both going down. Mrs. Anderson threw us +a plank and with its help I finally got her to the +pier.</p> +<p>“Now run for your life!” I ordered, my own +teeth chattering in my head. “Drop that wet coat +and I’ll race you to the house.” She didn’t move +nearly fast enough to avoid a chill and I took hold +of her hand and pulled her along.</p> +<p>Up in a cosy bedroom in the Randall’s house we +sat up, some hours later, wrapped in blankets, and +looked at each other gravely. Mrs. Anderson had +been in and talked with Ethel like a big sister about +the cheapness of carrying on flirtations with strange +boys. Ethel had seen her little affair in its true +light, robbed of all romance, and shame had taken +hold of her. Mrs. Anderson explained how the +gallant Romeo had seen his Juliet fall into the pond +and had fled basely in the other direction for fear +he would be blamed, making no effort to rescue her, +and she might have been drowned if I hadn’t fished +her out.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div> +<p>Ethel had been frightened out of her wits when +she fell into the water; she was still suffering from +the shock. She flushed hotly as she caught my +glance, and cast down her eyes.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Miss Brewster, for saving my life,” +she said rather shame-facedly. Then she went on +in a low tone, “I want to tell you something. I +wrote that letter to Mr. Butler,—the one that made +mamma so angry.”</p> +<p>“I know,” I answered gravely.</p> +<p>“You knew, and you jumped into the water after +me anyway?” she said in a tone of unbelief. “Why, +you might have let me drown as easy as not.”</p> +<p>“O no, I mightn’t,” I answered. “That isn’t the +way a Camp Fire Girl gets even.”</p> +<p>Ethel was silent a long while. Then she said, +“Will you come back to our house after I have told +mother the whole thing? She misses you a lot, says +she never had anyone do her work so well as you +did it, and she has been in a terrible temper ever +since you left.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” I answered slowly. I had been +very deeply hurt and my foolish pride was still on +its hind legs.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div> +<p>“Will you please come?” pleaded Ethel, slipping +out of her chair and putting her arms around me. +“We can have such good times after your work +hours. Please, for my sake, I want you. You’re +the most wonderful girl I’ve ever met!”</p> +<p>Old Mr. Pride and I had a final round and we +came out with me sitting on his head. “I’ll come +back,” I said, slipping my arm around Ethel.</p> +<p>So you see, Katherine, adventure isn’t dead, not +by any means, even if you do have to take it along +with your bread and butter.</p> +<p>Loads of love from your stenographic friend, +Sadie Shorthander, once upon a time your</p> +<p><span class="author">Sahwah.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">April 8, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Winnies:</span></p> +<p>Daggers and dirks! Did I say it was dull out +here? Deluded mortal! For the past week it’s +been so strenuous that I have seriously considered +moving to Bedlam for a rest. If I’m not gray by +the time I’m thirty it’ll be because I’m bald.</p> +<p>As Mistress of Ceremonies your humble servant +is a rather watery success. You know from sad +experience my fatal fondness for trying new and +startling experiments and also my genius for leaving +the most important things undone. Remember +the time I was Lemonade Committee when we +climbed Windy Hill and I carefully provided water +and sugar and spoons and glasses, and no lemons? +And the time I hid the unwashed dishes in the oven +at Aunt Anna’s and then went home with Gladys +and forgot all about them, and Aunt Anna nearly +had spasms because she thought her silverware had +been stolen? And the time we went to Ellen’s Isle +and I mislaid the vital portion of my traveling suit +half an hour before the train started and had to go +in a borrowed suit that didn’t fit? Every time little +Katherine was given something to do she either +forgot to do it altogether, or else did it in such a +way as to make herself ridiculous.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div> +<p>The memory of all those things rose up and oppressed +me after I had undertaken to stage a Patriotic +Pageant for the township of Spencer. I was +so afraid I would do something that would turn it +into a farce that I began to have nightmares the +minute I sank to weary slumber. It was a daring +idea, this patriotic pageant. Since history began +there had never been a pageant, patriotic or otherwise, +in this section. Most of the folks had never +seen a circus, or a show, or a parade; so there was +nobody to give me any help except Justice. I myself +would never have thought of tackling it, but no +sooner had my Camp Fire Girls gotten absorbed in +Red Cross work, and been thrilled by reading accounts +of what Camp Fire Girls were doing in other +sections, than they begged me to get up a pageant. +I had my misgivings, but, being a Winnebago, I +couldn’t back out. A pageant it should be, if it +cost my head. (It pretty nearly did, but not in the +way I had feared.)</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div> +<p>Justice Sherman hailed the plan with delight.</p> +<p>“Go to it,” he encouraged. “I’m with you to the +bitter end. I’ve never done it before but I’ll never +begin any younger.</p> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“‘There is a tide in the affairs of schoolma’ams,</p> +<p class="t0">That, taken at the flood, leads on to Pageants.’</p> +</div> +<p>“Lead on MacDuff! Trot out the order of events.”</p> +<p>At Justice’s suggestion I summed up all the possibilities.</p> +<p>“There isn’t much to work with,” I said thoughtfully, +having counted up all my assets on the fingers +of one hand. “Just ten Camp Fire Girls, about as +many boys, one trick mule, and—you.”</p> +<p>“So glad I know, right at the outset, just where +I come in,” said Justice politely, “after the mule.”</p> +<p>“Sandhelo’s got his red, white and blue pompom +that the girls sent him for Christmas,” I went on, +ignoring Justice’s gibe. “We could make red, white +and blue harness for him, too.”</p> +<p>“If only he doesn’t get temperamental!” said +Justice fervently.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div> +<p>“The girls could wear their Red Cross caps and +aprons in one part of it,” I continued, “and flags +draped on them when they act out ‘The Spirit of +Columbia.’ One of the girls can wear her Ceremonial +gown and be the Spirit of Nature that comes +to tell the others the secret of the soil that will help +them win the war. Oh, ideas are coming to me +faster than flies to molasses.”</p> +<p>“Would you advise me to wear my Ceremonial +gown or my Red Cross apron and cap?” asked +Justice soberly. “I could braid my hair in two pig-tails—”</p> +<p>“Oh, Justice!” I interrupted, “if you only had a +soldier’s uniform!” Then, as I saw Justice wince +and the laughter die out of his eyes, I stopped +abruptly and changed the subject. It was an awfully +sore point with him that he had been rejected for +the army.</p> +<p>“We’ll have a flag raising, of course, and tableaux,” +I rushed on. “Would you put the flag on +the schoolhouse, or set up a pole in the ground?”</p> +<p>“I think on the schoolhouse,” said Justice, with a +return of interest. “That’s where it belongs.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div> +<p>Justice and I held more conferences in the next +day or so than the King and his Prime Minister. +Lessons in the little schoolhouse were abandoned +while we drilled and rehearsed for the pageant. +Justice and I put together and bought the flag.</p> +<p>“Who’s going to raise it?” asked Justice, shaking +the beautiful bright starry folds out of the package.</p> +<p>I considered.</p> +<p>“I think the pupil that has the best record in +school should raise it,” suggested Justice.</p> +<p>“I think,” I said slowly, “I’ll let Absalom Butts +raise it.”</p> +<p>“Absalom Butts!” exclaimed Justice incredulously. +“The laziest, meanest, most mischievous +boy in school! I wouldn’t let him be in the pageant, +if I had my way, let alone raise the flag.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div> +<p>“Exactly,” I said calmly. “You’re just like the +rest of them. That’s the whole trouble with Absalom +Butts. He’s been used to harsh measures all +his life. His father has cuffed him about ever +since he can remember. Everybody considers him +a bad boy and a terror to snakes and all that and +now he acts the part thoroughly. He’s so homely +that nobody will ever be attracted to him by his +looks, and such a poor scholar that he will never +make a name for himself at his lessons, and the +only way he can make himself prominent is through +his pranks. He’s too old to be in school with the +rest of the children; he should be with boys of his +own age. His father makes him stay there because +he is too obstinate to admit that he will never get +out by the graduation route, and Absalom takes out +his spite on the teacher. I can read him like a +book. I’ve tried fighting him to a finish on every +point and it hasn’t worked. He’s still ready to break +out at a moment’s notice. Now I’m going to change +my tactics. I’m going to appoint him, as the oldest +pupil, to be my special aid in the pageant, and help +work out the details. I’m going to honor him by +letting him raise the flag. We’ll see how that will +change his mind about playing pranks to spoil the +pageant.”</p> +<p>“It won’t work,” said Justice gloomily. “Absalom +Butts is Absalom Butts, the son of Elijah Butts; +and a chip off the old block. The old man has a +mean, crafty disposition, and he probably was just +like Absalom when he was young. Absalom is going +to do something to spoil that pageant, I see it in +his eye. You watch.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div> +<p>“It’s worth trying, anyhow,” I said determinedly.</p> +<p>“It won’t work,” reiterated Justice. “You can’t +change human nature.”</p> +<p>“It worked once,” I said, and I told him about +the Dalrymple twins, Antha and Anthony, last +summer on Ellen’s Isle.</p> +<p>“So you turned little Cry-baby into a lion of +bravery and Sir Boastful into a modest violet!” said +Justice, in a tone of incredulity.</p> +<p>“Yes, and if you’d ever seen them at the beginning +of the summer you wouldn’t have held any +high hopes of changing human nature, either,” I +remarked, a little nettled at Justice’s tone.</p> +<p>Justice started to reply, but was seized with a +violent fit of coughing that left him leaning weakly +against the door. I looked at him in some alarm. +I knew it was throat trouble that had kept him +out of the army, but it hadn’t seemed to be anything +to worry about—just a dry, hacking cough +from time to time. Now, standing out there in the +brilliant sunshine, he looked very white and +haggard.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div> +<p>“You’re all tired out, you’ve been working too +hard,” I said, remembering how he had been putting +in time after school hours working in Elijah Butts’ +cotton storehouse, because it was impossible to get +enough men to handle the cotton. Then, by drilling +my boys and girls by the hour in military marching +and running countless errands for me—poor +Justice was in danger of being sacrificed on the +altar of my ambition.</p> +<p>“I’m a selfish thing!” I said vehemently.</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” said Justice, holding up his head and +beginning to fold up the flag. “I got choked with +dust, that’s all.” Manlike, he hated to display any +sign of physical weakness before a girl. I decided +to say no more about it, but I knew he needed rest.</p> +<p>“Sit down a minute,” I said artfully, sinking +down on the doorsill, “and keep me ’mused. I’m +tired to death. Tell me all the news in the Metropolis +of Spencer.”</p> +<p>Justice fell into the trap. He sat down beside me +and launched into a lively imitation of Elijah Butts +convincing the school board that the old school +books were better than the new ones some venturous +soul had suggested.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div> +<p>“If he only knew how you took him off behind +his back, he wouldn’t confide in you so trustingly,” +said I.</p> +<p>“That’s what comes of being a bargain,” replied +Justice loftily. “Great ones linger in my presence, +anxious to breathe the same air. The Board coddles +me like a rare bit of old china and proudly exhibits +me to visitors.</p> +<p>“Oh, by the way,” he added, “I hear there’s a +stranger in town.”</p> +<p>I looked up with interest. “Fine or superfine?” +I asked.</p> +<p>“Superfine,” replied Justice.</p> +<p>“Where from?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“Like Shelley’s immortal soul,” replied Justice +solemnly, “she cometh from afar. She cometh to +study Rural School Conditions—sent out by some +Commission or other. She’s likely to visit your +school. Thought I’d tell you ahead of time so you’d +manage to be on the premises when the delegation +arrived. She might object to hunting through the +woods for you.” Here we were both overcome with +laughter at the remembrance of the last “visitation” +of the school board.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div> +<p>“I can’t figure out yet why I wasn’t fired,” said +I, flicking a sociable spider off my lap with the stem +of a leaf. “I would have been willing to bet my +eyebrows on it that night. What made them change +their minds, I wonder?”</p> +<p>“Maybe it was because they hated to lose the +bargain,” answered Justice, half to himself.</p> +<p>“Hated to lose what bargain?” I asked innocently. +Then suddenly I understood.</p> +<p>“Justice Sherman!” I exclaimed, starting up. +“Did you threaten to leave if they discharged me?”</p> +<p>Justice turned crimson and became reticent. +“Well, I don’t know as I threatened them exactly,” +he replied in a soothing drawl. “I don’t look very +threatening, now, do I?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Justice,” was all I could say, for at the +thought of what he had done for me I was stricken +dumb.</p> +<p>Verily the power of the Bargain was great in the +land!</p> +<p>The pageant grew under our hands until it assumed +really respectable proportions. The girls and +boys were wild about it and drilled tirelessly by the +hour.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div> +<p>“I wish we had a better parade ground,” sighed +Justice regretfully, squinting at the small level plot +of ground in front of the schoolhouse that was worn +bare of grass. “We haven’t room to make a really +effective showing with our drill. If only the old +schoolhouse wasn’t in the way we could use the space +that’s behind it and on both sides of it.”</p> +<p>It was then that I had one of my old-time, wild +inspirations. “Move the schoolhouse back,” I said +calmly.</p> +<p>Justice shouted. “Why not roll up the road and +set it down on the other side of field?” he suggested.</p> +<p>“I don’t see why we couldn’t move the schoolhouse +back,” I repeated. “Why not, if it’s in the +way? It’s no ornament, anyway.”</p> +<p>Half-amused, half-serious, Justice looked first at +me and then at the little one-story shack that went +by the name of schoolhouse.</p> +<p>“By Jove! we can do it!” he exclaimed suddenly. +“It’ll be no trick at all. Just get her up on rollers +and hitch Sandhelo to the pulley rope and let him +wind her up. Just like that. An’ zay say ze French +have no sense of ze delicasse!”</p> +<p>“What will the Board say?” I inquired, half +fearfully.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div> +<p>“We won’t ask the Board,” replied Justice +calmly. “Move first, ask for orders afterwards, +that’s the way the great generals win battles. Remember +how General Sherman cut the wires between +him and Washington when he started out on +his famous march to the sea, so that no short-sighted +one could wire him to change his plans? +Well, we’re out to make this pageant a success, and +we aren’t going to risk it by stopping to ask too +much permission. We’ll move the schoolhouse first +and ask permission afterward. By that time it’ll +be too late; the pageant is to-morrow.”</p> +<p>And we did move it. If you had ever seen us! +It wasn’t such a job as you might think. I suppose +the word “schoolhouse” conjures up in your mind +the brick and granite pile that is Washington High—imagine +moving that out of the way to make room +for a military drill! ’Vantage number one for our +school. We also have our points of superiority, it +seems.</p> +<p>The old shack looked vastly better where we +finally let it rest. There was a clump of bushes +alongside that hid some of its battered boards beautifully. +The parade ground seemed about three +times as big as it had been before.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_187">[187]</div> +<p>“That’s more like it,” said Justice approvingly. +“Now we can turn around without stubbing our +toes against the schoolhouse.”</p> +<p>“What will Mr. Butts say?” I asked, beginning +to have cold chills.</p> +<p>“Just wait until that gets between the wind and +his nobility!” chuckled Justice. “Never mind, I’ll +take all the blame.”</p> +<p>Nevertheless, when the crisis came, and Elijah +Butts came driving up on the afternoon of the +great occasion, I was there to face the music alone, +Justice being nowhere in sight.</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Butts arrived in state, bringing +with them a strange lady, who I figured out must +be the one Justice had told me about, the one who, +like Shelley’s immortal soul, had come from afar +and was sent by a Commission to study rural school +conditions.</p> +<p>I glanced wildly about to see if Justice were not +hovering protectingly near, but there was no sign of +him. However, I knew my duties as hostess. Nonchalantly +I strolled over to the road to welcome the +newcomers. Elijah Butts had just finished tying +his horse and, bristling with importance, had turned +to help the Commission Lady out of the rig.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div> +<p>“Ah-h, Miss Fairlee,” he said in smooth tones, +“this is—ah—Miss Adams, our teacher at the Corners +school.”</p> +<p>Then he suddenly jumped half out of his boots +and stared over my shoulder as if he had seen a +ghost. “Where’s that schoolhouse?” he demanded, +in a voice which seemed to indicate he thought I +had it in my pocket.</p> +<p>“It’s right over there,” I said calmly, pointing +toward the bushes.</p> +<p>Elijah Butts’ eyes followed my fingers in a fascinated +way; he could hardly believe his senses. +“How did it get there?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“We moved it back,” I replied casually. “It was +in the way of the maneuvers.”</p> +<p>Elijah Butts sputtered, choked, and was speechless.</p> +<p>But Miss Fairlee, the Commission lady, laughed +until she had to grip the side of the buggy for support. +“It’s the funniest thing I ever heard,” she +gasped. “I’ve heard of the Mountain coming to +Mahomet, but I never heard of the Mountain getting +out of the road for Mahomet. Oh, Mr. Butts, +I think the West is delightful. You people are <i>so</i> +original and forceful!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div> +<p>That took the wind out of Mr. Butts’ sails. +What could he do after that neat little speech but +take the compliment to himself and pass the matter +off lightly?</p> +<p>The pageant was a wonderful success in spite of +my misgivings. I didn’t forget to hand the torch +to Columbia at the right moment and I didn’t forget +to bring the brown stockings for little Lizzie +Cooper, who was the Spirit of Nature, and I made +fire with the bow and drill without any mishap. +But one thing was a dreadful disappointment to me. +Absalom Butts was not there, and I had no chance +to work out my experiment on him. Where he was +I couldn’t imagine. I had taken Clarissa home with +me the night before to help me finish some things +and she hadn’t seen him since he went home from +school; Mr. Butts also said he didn’t know. He +added, in a voice loud enough for Miss Fairlee to +hear, that he would lick the tar out of him for not +being in the patriotic pageant.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div> +<p>No one knew that I had picked Absalom in my +mind to raise the flag. There had been much speculation +about who was to have this honor and in order +to keep everybody happy I said I would not announce +this until the moment came. Then I +planned to make a speech and award the honor to +Absalom, thus singling him out for something besides +punishment for once in his life. I had had +him helping me for several days, and given him +certain definite things to do on the great occasion +and was much disappointed that he didn’t come to +do them. Justice’s warning came back and I had +an uneasy feeling that he was in hiding somewhere, +plotting mischief.</p> +<p>I had a real inspiration, though, in regard to the +flag raising. In a flowery speech I called upon Mr. +Elijah Butts, the “President of the School Board +and the most influential man in Spencer Township,” +to perform that rite. He swelled up until he almost +burst, like the frog in the fable, as he stood +there, conscious of Miss Fairlee’s eye on him, with +his great hairy hand on the pulley rope. Round the +corner of the schoolhouse and hidden from view by +the bush, I caught Justice Sherman’s eye and he +applauded silently with his two forefingers, meaning +to say that it was a master stroke on my part. +Then he dropped his eye decorously and started the +singing of the National Anthem.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_191">[191]</div> +<p>The pageant ended up in a picnic supper eaten on +the erstwhile parade ground, and then the people +began to go home through the softly falling dusk. +Miss Fairlee came to me and complimented me on +the success of the pageant and asked to take some +notes for future use; and Elijah Butts was quite +cordial as he departed. I’ve discovered something +to-day; if you want to win a person’s undying affection, +single him out as the most important member +of the bunch. He’ll fall for it every time. You +note that I am talking about male persons, now.</p> +<p>“Well, the show’s over,” said Justice, when the +last of the audience had departed. “Now the actors +can take it easy. Come on, let’s get Sandhelo and +go for a ride.”</p> +<p>We climbed into the little cart, still covered with +its pageant finery, and drove slowly down the dusty +road, discussing the events of the day.</p> +<p>“O Justice,” said I, “did you ever see anything so +touching as the pride some of those poor women +took in their boys and girls? They fairly glowed, +some of them. And did you see that one poor +woman who tried to fix herself up for the occasion? +She had nothing to wear but her faded old blue +calico dress, but she had pinned a bunch of roses on +the front of it to make herself look festive.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_192">[192]</div> +<p>“We’ve started something, I think,” said Justice +thoughtfully. “We’ve taught the people how to get +together and have a good time, and they like it. +They’ll be doing it again.”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” I replied. Then I added, “I wonder +where Absalom was?”</p> +<p>“You see, your scheme didn’t work after all,” +said Justice, in an I-told-you-so tone of voice. +“Absalom wasn’t impressed with the honor of being +your right-hand man. He took the occasion to +play hookey. It’s a wonder he didn’t try to play +some trick on the rest of us; but I suppose he didn’t +dare, with his father there. He’s afraid to draw a +crooked breath when the old man’s around.”</p> +<p>“I’m disappointed,” I said pensively, leaning my +head back and letting the cool wind blow the hair +away from my face. It had been a strenuous day +and I was tired out. The strain of being afraid +every minute that I would do something ridiculous +or had left something undone that was of vital +importance had nearly turned my hair grey. Now +that it was all over without mishap, the people had +enjoyed it and my Camp Fire girls had covered +themselves with glory, I relaxed into a delicious +tranquillity and gave myself over to enjoyment of +the quiet drive in the sweet evening air.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div> +<p>“Why so deucedly pensive?” inquired Justice, +after we had jogged along for some minutes in +silence.</p> +<p>“Just thanking whatever gods there be that I +didn’t make a holy show of myself somehow,” I +replied lazily. “Isn’t this evening peaceful, though? +Who would ever think that down around the other +side of this sweet smelling earth men are killing each +other like flies, and the night is hideous with the din +of warfare?”</p> +<p>Above us the big white stars twinkled serenely, +approvingly; all nature seemed in tune with my +placid mood. Justice fell under the spell of it, too, +and leaned back in silent enjoyment.</p> +<p>What was that sudden glare that shone out +against the sky, over to the south? That red, lurid +glare that dimmed the glory of the stars and threw +buildings and barns into black relief?</p> +<p>“The cotton storehouse!” exclaimed Justice in a +horrified voice. “Hurry!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_194">[194]</div> +<p>For once Sandhelo responded to my urging without +argument, and we soon arrived on the scene of +the blaze. Elijah Butts’ plantation is about three +miles from Spencer, and no water but the well and +the cistern. “This is going to be a nice mess,” said +Justice, jumping out of the car and charging into +the throng of gaping negroes who stood around +watching the spectacle. The family of Butts had +not returned from the pageant yet, having taken +Miss Fairlee for a drive in the opposite direction. +A few neighbors had gathered, but they stood there, +gaping like the negroes and not lifting a hand to save +the cotton.</p> +<p>“Here you, get busy!” shouted Justice, taking +command like a general. Under his direction a +bucket brigade was formed to check the flames as +much as possible and keep the surrounding sheds +from taking fire. “Go through the barn and bring +out the horses and cows, if there are any there,” he +called to me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_195">[195]</div> +<p>I obeyed, and brought out one poor trembling +bossy, the only livestock I found. Then Justice +turned the command of the bucket brigade over to +me and started in with one or two helpers to remove +the cotton from the end of the storehouse +that was not yet ablaze. He worked like a Trojan, +his face blackened with smoke until it was hard to +tell him from the negroes, the remains of his pageant +costume hanging about him in tatters.</p> +<p>“Somebody started this fire on purpose,” he +panted as he paused beside me a moment to clear his +lungs of smoke. “There’s been oil poured on the +cotton!”</p> +<p>Just at that moment the Butts family returned, +driving into the yard at a gallop. Mr. Butts’ wrath +and excitement knew no bounds and he was hardly +able to help effectively; he ran around for all the +world like a chicken with its head off. Assistance +came swiftly as people began to arrive from far +and near, attracted by the blaze, but if it hadn’t +been for Justice’s timely taking hold of the situation +not a bit of the cotton would have been saved, +and the house, barn and sheds would have gone +up, too.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_196">[196]</div> +<p>Conjectures began to fly thick and fast on all +sides as to how the fire had started, and a whisper +began going the rounds that soon became an open +accusation. One of the negroes that works for Mr. +Butts swore he saw Absalom going into the storehouse +that afternoon. My heart skipped a beat. +He had not been at the celebration. Was this where +he had been and what he had done the while? +Elijah Butts was stamping up and down in such a +fury as I had never seen.</p> +<p>“He couldn’t get out!” he shouted hoarsely to +the group that stood around him. “He’s locked in +the woodshed, I locked him in there myself, and +there isn’t even a window he could get out of!”</p> +<p>I started at his words. So that was where Absalom +had been that afternoon. He hadn’t deliberately +disappointed me, then. But—Elijah Butts +hadn’t said that afternoon that he had locked Absalom +up at home. He had pretended to be much +mystified over the non-appearance of his son. Why +had he done so? The answer came in a flash of +intuition. Elijah Butts had probably had a set-to +with Absalom over some private affair and had +locked him up as punishment, but he didn’t want +Miss Fairlee to know that he had kept him out of +the patriotic pageant and so he had denied any +knowledge of Absalom’s whereabouts. “The old +hypocrite!” I said to myself scornfully.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div> +<p>“Your woodshed’s wide open,” said someone from +the crowd. “We were in there looking for a bucket. +The door was open and there wasn’t nobody in it.”</p> +<p>“He got out!” shouted Elijah Butts in still greater +fury. “He got out and set fire to the cotton to +spite me! Wait until I catch him! Wait till I get +my hands on him!” He stamped up and down, +shouting threats against his son, awful to listen to.</p> +<p>“I thought he’d drive that boy to turn against +him yet,” said Justice, drawing me away to a quiet +spot, and mopping his black forehead with a damp +handkerchief. “I can’t say but that it served him +right. After all, Absalom is a chip off the old +block. That’s his idea of getting even. He didn’t +stop to think that it was the government’s loss as +well as his father’s. Well, it’s all over but the +shouting; we might as well go home.”</p> +<p>We drove home in silence. Justice was tuckered +out, I could see that, and I began to worry for fear +his strenuous efforts would lay him up. I was still +too much excited to feel tired. That would come +later. All my energy was concentrated into disappointment +over Absalom Butts. I couldn’t believe +that he was really as bad as this. I didn’t want to +believe he had done it, and yet it seemed all too +true. Why had he run away if he hadn’t? I shook +my head. It was beyond me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div> +<p>Silently we drove into the yard and unhitched +Sandhelo.</p> +<p>“Good night,” said Justice, starting off in the +direction of his cabin.</p> +<p>“Good night,” I replied absently. I did not go +right into the house. I was wide awake and knew +I could not go to sleep for some time. Instead I +sat in the doorway and blinked at the moon, like a +touseled-haired owl. It was after midnight and +everything was still, even the wind. Out of the +corner of my eye I watched Justice wearily plodding +along to his sleeping quarters, saw him open the +screen door and vanish from sight within. Then, +borne clearly on the night air, I heard an exclamation +come from his lips, then a frightened cry. I +sped down the path like the wind to the little cabin. +A lamp flared out in the darkness just as I reached +it and by its light I saw Justice bending over something +in a corner.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” I called through the screen +door.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div> +<p>Justice turned around with a start. “Oh, it’s +you, is it?” he said. “Come in here.”</p> +<p>I went in. There, crouched in a corner on the +floor, was Absalom Butts, his eyes blinking in the +sudden light, his face like a scared rabbit’s. It was +he who had cried out, not Justice.</p> +<p>“What’s the trouble, Absalom,” said I, trying to +speak in a natural tone of voice, “can’t you find +your way home?”</p> +<p>“Dassent go home,” replied Absalom.</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Pa’ll kill me.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Because I ran away.”</p> +<p>“So you’ve run away, have you?” said I. +“Why?”</p> +<p>“Because pa licked me and locked me in the woodshed +and wouldn’t let me come to the doin’s this +afternoon, and I just wouldn’t stand it, so I got +out and cut.”</p> +<p>“When did you get out?” I asked, leaning forward +a trifle.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div> +<p>“This afternoon,” replied Absalom. “I thought +first I’d come to the doin’s anyhow and help you +with those things I’d promised, but I was scared +to come with pa there, so I went the other way. +I walked and walked and walked, till I was tired out +and most starved, because I hadn’t brought anything +along to eat, and I didn’t know where I was +headed for, anyway, and then I came along here +and saw this shack and came in and sat down to +rest. I must a fell asleep.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t do it, then?” said I, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Do what?” Absalom’s tone was plainly bewildered.</p> +<p>“Set fire to your father’s cotton storehouse.”</p> +<p>“Whee-e-e-e-e!” Absalom’s whistle of astonishment +was clearly genuine. “I should say not!”</p> +<p>“Do you know who did?” asked Justice, watching +him keenly.</p> +<p>“<i>Did</i> somebody?” asked Absalom innocently.</p> +<p>“I should say they did,” said Justice, puzzled in +his turn. “Are you sure you don’t know anything +about it?”</p> +<p>Absalom shook his head vigorously. “I don’t +know anything about it,” he said straightforwardly.</p> +<p>“I was sure you didn’t do it,” I said triumphantly. +“I had a feeling in my bones.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div> +<p>“How does it happen that you weren’t at the +fire?” asked Justice wonderingly. “You must have +seen the glare in the sky. People came for miles +around. Didn’t you see it?”</p> +<p>Absalom shook his head. “I must a slept through +it,” he said simply, and followed it with such a large +sigh of regret for what he had missed that Justice +and I both had to smile.</p> +<p>“Well, there’s one thing about it,” said Justice, +“and that is, if you <i>didn’t</i> set fire to it, you’d better +streak it for home about as fast as you can and +clear yourself up. Everybody thinks you did it and +your running away made it look suspicious. Besides, +one of your father’s men says he saw you +coming out of the storehouse this afternoon. By +the way, what <i>were</i> you doing in there?”</p> +<p>Absalom met his gaze unwaveringly. “Me? +Why, I went in there to get my knife, that I’d left +in there yesterday. I couldn’t go away without +my knife, could I?” He pulled it from his pocket +and gazed on it fondly,—an ugly old “toad stabber.”</p> +<p>“See here, you weren’t smoking any cigarettes in +there, and dropped a lighted stub, perhaps?” asked +Justice.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div> +<p>“No,” replied Absalom, “I wasn’t smokin’ to-day. +I do sometimes, though,” he admitted.</p> +<p>“Well, you don’t seem to be the villain, after all,” +said Justice, “and I’m mighty glad to hear it. So +will a lot of people be. Things looked pretty bad +for you this afternoon, Absalom.”</p> +<p>“Honest?” asked Absalom. “Do folks really +think I set fire to it? What did pa say?”</p> +<p>Justice laughed. “What he isn’t going to do to +you when he catches you won’t be worth doing,” he +said.</p> +<p>Absalom began to look apprehensive. “I’m +afraid to go back,” he said.</p> +<p>“What are you afraid of, if you didn’t do it?” +asked Justice.</p> +<p>“Pa wouldn’t believe me,” said Absalom nervously.</p> +<p>“Oh, I guess he’ll believe you all right,” I said +soothingly.</p> +<p>“You go with me,” begged Absalom, eyeing us +both beseechingly. “He’ll believe you. He never +believes me.”</p> +<p>“Maybe we had better,” said I. “He can stay +here with you the rest of the night and we’ll drive +over the first thing in the morning.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div> +<p>The next morning bright and early found us +again on the scene of the fire. Early as we were, +we found Elijah Butts poking in the ashes of his +cotton crop with a wrathful countenance. When +he saw us coming he strode to meet us and without +a word laid hold of Absalom’s collar. His expression +was like that of a fox who has caught his +goose after many hours of waiting.</p> +<p>“I’ve got you, you rascal,” he sputtered, shaking +Absalom until his teeth chattered. “Where did you +find him?” he demanded of Justice.</p> +<p>“In my bunk,” replied Justice, laying a hand on +Mr. Butts’ arm and trying to separate him from +his son. “He had been there all evening, and knew +nothing about the fire. He didn’t do it.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t do it!” shouted Mr. Butts. “Don’t tell +me he didn’t do it. Of course he did it! Who else +did?”</p> +<p>We weren’t prepared to answer.</p> +<p>“I’m sure Absalom didn’t do it, Mr. Butts,” said +Justice earnestly. “I’d stake a whole lot on it.”</p> +<p>“Well, I wouldn’t, you can better believe!” answered +Mr. Butts. “He did it, and I’m going to +take it out of him.” He began to march Absalom +off toward the house, urging him along with a box +on the ear that nearly felled him to the ground.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div> +<p>Justice did it so quickly that I never will be able +to tell just what it was, but in a minute there stood +Elijah Butts rubbing his wrist and wearing the most +surprised look I ever saw on the face of a man, and +there sat Absalom on the ground half a dozen yards +away.</p> +<p>“Beat it back to our shack, Absalom,” called +Justice. “I guess the climate’s a little too hot +around here for you just yet.”</p> +<p>Absalom needed no second bidding. He sped +down the road away from his paternal mansion as +if the whole German army was after him.</p> +<p>“When you can treat your son like a human being +he’ll come back,” said Justice to Mr. Butts.</p> +<p>“He don’t need to come back,” said Mr. Butts +sourly, but with fury carefully toned down. Justice’s +use of an uncanny Japanese wrestling trick to +wrench Absalom out of his vise-like grasp had created +a vast respect in him. He wasn’t quite sure +what Justice was going to do next, and eyed him +warily for a possible attack in the rear. “He +don’t need to come back,” he mumbled stubbornly, +“until he either says he did it and takes what’s +coming to him, or finds out who did do it.” Growling +to himself he went toward the house and we +drove off to overtake Absalom.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div> +<p>“Daggers and dirks!” exclaimed Justice. “Old +Butts sure is some knotty piece of timber to drive +screws into!”</p> +<p>It was a rather dejected trio that Sandhelo, frisking +in the morning air, carried back to the house. +Justice, I could see, was trying to figure out by +calculus the probable result of having jiu-jitsu-ed +the president of the school board; I was sorry for +Absalom and Absalom was sorry for himself. Once +I caught him looking at me pleadingly.</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> don’t think I done it?” he asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“Not for a minute!” I answered heartily, smiling +into his eyes.</p> +<p>He looked down, in a shame-faced way, and then +he suddenly put his arm around my neck. “I’m +sorry I treated you so horrid,” he murmured. +Think of it! Absalom, the bully, the one-time bane +of my existence, the fly in the ointment, riding down +the road with his arm around my neck, and me +standing up for him against the world! Don’t +things turn out queerly, though? Who would ever +have thought it possible, six months ago?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div> +<p>Absalom and I had quite a few long talks in the +days that followed. He confided to me his hatred +of lessons and his ambition to raise horses. Father +let him help him as much as he liked, and promised +him a job on the place any time he wanted it. +Absalom seemed utterly transformed. He fooled +around the horses day and night and showed a +knack of handling them that proved beyond a doubt +that he had chosen his profession wisely. I did not +insist upon his going to school and was glad I +hadn’t; for in a day or two came the “visitation” +of the Board, bringing Miss Fairlee to see my +school.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div> +<p>She was absolutely enchanted with the way we +conducted things; gasped with astonishment at the +graphophone and the lantern slides; exclaimed in +wonder at the library; listened approvingly to the +reading lesson, which was from one of the current +magazines; partook generously of our dinner, +cooked and served in the most approved style, and +laughed heartily at the stunts we did afterward by +way of entertainment. I took a naughty satisfaction +in showing off my changed curriculum for her +approval and watching the effect it had on the +august Board members. None of them knew +exactly what I had been doing all this time, and +their amazement was immense. Mr. Butts did not +come with the board this time, so I was spared the +embarrassment of meeting him. Without him the +rest of the Board were like sheep that had gotten +separated from the bell-wether; they didn’t know +which direction to head into until Miss Fairlee expressed +her unqualified approval of my methods; +then they all endorsed it emphatically.</p> +<p>“I wish I were a pupil again, so I could have +you for a teacher!” said Miss Fairlee when school +was out, and I considered that the highest compliment +I had ever received. I immediately invited +her to attend our Ceremonial Meeting that night +and she accepted the invitation eagerly. We held +it on the old parade ground in front of the school. +In honor of our guest we acted out the pretty Indian +legend of Kir-a-wa and the Blackbirds and when +we came to the place where we rush out looking +for the two crows we found two real ones sitting +on the fence, only, instead of attacking us as the +ones did in the legend, these two applauded vigorously. +They were Justice and Absalom, come with +Sandhelo and the cart to take me home, or rather +what was left of me after the blackbirds had picked +me to pieces.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div> +<p>“Another day gone without mishap!” I said, as +Justice slid back the stable door and I walked in +with my arm around Sandhelo’s neck. “Sandhelo +will have to have a lump of sugar and an extra soft +bed to celebrate. Come on, Sandy, let me tuck +you in.”</p> +<p>But Sandhelo would not enter his stall. He stuck +his head in, sniffed the air, and then, with a squeal +that always heralds an outbreak of temperament, +he rose on his hind legs and began to dance.</p> +<p>“Whatever has gotten into him?” I began, tugging +at his tail, which was the nearest thing I could +get my hand onto, when suddenly a wild shriek rose +up from under our very feet and in the dimness of +the stall we saw something roll over and crouch in +a corner.</p> +<p>“Quick, the lantern!” said Justice.</p> +<p>But we couldn’t find it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div> +<p>Then from the depths of the stall there came a +voice, crying in terrified tones, “Don’ take me, mister +Debble; don’ take me, mister Debble, I done it, +I done it; I set fiah to ’at ole cotton to get even +with old Mister Butts fer settin’ de dawgs on me; I +done it, I done it; go ’way, Mister Debble, don’ +take me, I’ll tell dem; only don’ take me, Mister +Debble!”</p> +<p>Justice and Absalom and I stood frozen to the +spot, listening to this remarkable outcry. Then +Justice raised the lantern, which he just spied on +the floor, and lighting it held it in the stall. By its +flickering rays we saw a negro crouching in the +corner, whose rolling eyes and trembling limbs +showed him to be beside himself with fright.</p> +<p>“Glory!” exclaimed Justice. “It’s the same old +bird we saw in the road that day, the one I said +looked like mischief!”</p> +<p>Here Sandhelo, nosing me aside, looked inquisitively +over my shoulder and the darky immediately +went into another spasm of fright, covering his +face with his hands and imploring “Mister Debble” +not to take him this time.</p> +<p>“Whee-e-e-e-!” said Justice, whistling in his astonishment. +“He’s the one that fired the cotton and +now he thinks Sandhelo is the devil coming after +him!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div> +<p>“Mercy, what an awful creature!” said I, shuddering +and looking the other way. “If Sandhelo gets +a good look at him I’m afraid he’ll return the compliment +about taking him for His Satanic Nibs.”</p> +<p>“There’s only one way you can keep him from +getting you,” said Justice to the darky gravely. +“That’s by going to Mr. Butts and telling him yourself +that you did it. Otherwise, it’s good-bye, +Solomon.”</p> +<p>Here Sandhelo, as if he understood what was +going on, suddenly snapped at the black legs +stretched out across his stall.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him!” shuddered Solomon, +and with a prolonged howl of terror he fled from +the stable and down the road in the direction of the +Butts plantation.</p> +<p>“He’ll tell him all right,” chuckled Justice. +“He’ll face a dozen Elijah Buttses, before he lets +the devil get him. Poor Sandhelo! Rather rough +on him, though, to have his name used as a terror +to evil doers!”</p> +<p>Talk about nothing ever happening around here! +O you darling Winnebagos, with your ladylike advantages, +and your mildly eventful lives, you don’t +know what real excitement is!</p> +<p><span class="center">Worn out, but happily yours,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div> +<h3>GLADYS TO KATHERINE</h3> +<p><span class="date">April 10, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest old K:</span></p> +<p>The Winnebagos have scored again, although it +did take us nearly all year to make this particular +basket. I know that if you had been here, you old +miracle worker, you would have found the way +before the first month had passed, but, not having +your gift for seeing right through people’s starched +shirtwaists and straight into their hearts, we had to +wait for chance to show us the way. And it turned +out the way it usually does for the Winnebagos—we +stooped to pick up a common little stone and +found a pearl of great price. Of course, now there +are lots of people who would like to be the setting +for that pearl, but she belongs to the Winnebagos +by right of discovery and we mean to keep her for +our very own. For, after all, who but the Winnebagos +could have discovered Sally Prindle, when up +to that very week, day, hour and minute she hadn’t +even discovered herself? The chances are that she +never would have, either, and what a shame it would +have been!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div> +<p>You remember my telling about Sally Prindle +long ago, the time we tried to fix up her room for +her and she wouldn’t let us? Of course she hurt +our feelings, because we hadn’t been trying to +patronize her and didn’t deserve to be snubbed, but +we got over it in a day or two and saw her side of +it. It probably <i>was</i> annoying to have three separate +delegations take notice of your poverty in one +day, and there was no telling how tactless the first +two had been. At the second meeting of the LAST +OF THE WINNEBAGOS, held on and around +Oh-Pshaw’s bed, we formally decided, with much +speechifying by Agony and Oh-Pshaw, that Sally +would be the special object of our Give Service +Pledge. We would make her feel that we didn’t +care a rap whether she was poor or not; that it was +she herself we cared about. We would ask her to +share all our good times and would drop in to see +her often, as good neighbors should, and would +finally bring her around to the point where she +would begin to Seek Beauty for herself, see that her +bare room was too ugly for any good use, and gladly +share our overflow with us. Oh, we planned great +things that night!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div> +<p>“Let’s go over and call on her right away,” suggested +Hinpoha, who was fired with enthusiasm at +the plan and couldn’t wait to begin the program of +Give Service.</p> +<p>Off we went down the hall, filled with virtuous +enthusiasm. Sally was at home because we could +see the light shining through the transom.</p> +<p>“Wait a minute, don’t knock,” whispered Agony +with a giggle. “I know a lot more Epic way.” +She pulled a candy kiss from her pocket, scribbled +an absurd note on a piece of paper about weary +travelers waiting at the gate, tied it to the kiss and +threw it through the transom.</p> +<p>We heard it strike the floor and heard Sally rise +from a creaking chair and pick it up. Giggling, +we waited for her to come and let us in. In a +minute her footsteps came toward the door and with +comradely smiles we stepped forward. The door +was opened a very small crack, and out flew the +kiss, much faster than it had gone in. It just +missed Hinpoha’s nose by a hair’s breadth and fell +on the floor with a spiteful thud. Then the door +slammed emphatically. We looked at each other in +consternation.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div> +<p>“Whee-e-e-e-e-!” said Agony in a long-drawn +whistle.</p> +<p>“Horrid—old—thing!” said Hinpoha, picking up +the kiss from the floor and holding it up for us to +see that the note had never been opened. Feeling +both foolish and hurt we trailed back home and +sadly gave up the idea of Giving Service to Sally +Prindle.</p> +<p>“Let her alone, she isn’t worth worrying about,” +said Hinpoha, beginning to be just as cross as she +had been enthusiastic before. “She hasn’t a spark +of sociability in her.”</p> +<p>“There are Hermit Souls——” began Oh-Pshaw, +and Agony cut in with</p> +<div class="verse"> +<p class="t0">“Twinkle, twinkle, little Sal,</p> +<p class="t0">How we’d like to be your pal,</p> +<p class="t0">But you hold your nose so high</p> +<p class="t0">You don’t see us passing by.”</p> +</div> +<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div> +<p>That ended Sally Prindle as far as the LAST OF +THE WINNEBAGOS were concerned. But I had +an uncomfortable feeling all the time that if Nyoda +had been there she would have managed to become +friendly with Sally in some way, and that we had +failed to “warm the heart” of this “lonely mortal” +who “stood without our open portal.” Sally +haunted me. How any girl could live and not be +friendly with the people she saw every day was +more than I could understand. She just grubbed +away at her lessons, paid no attention to what went +on around her, snubbed any girl who tried to make +advances and lived a life of lofty detachment. She +was a good student and invariably recited correctly +when called upon, but beyond that none of the +teachers could get a particle of warmth out of her, +not even fascinating Miss Allison, who has all her +classes worshipping at her feet.</p> +<p>Sally worried me for a while; then she moved +out of Purgatory and took a room with some private +family in town and as I hardly ever saw her +any more I forgot her after a time. Life is so <i>very</i> +full here, Katherine dear, that you can’t bother +much about any one person.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div> +<p>Of course, the big thought that runs through +everything this year, all our work and all our play, +is the War and what we can do to help. At the beginning +of the year Brownell pledged herself to raise +five thousand dollars for the Red Cross by various +activities; this was outside of the personal subscription +fund. A big Christmas bazaar and several +benefit performances brought the total close to +four thousand, but the last thousand proved to be a +sticker. Various committees were called to discuss +ways and means of raising the money, but they +never could agree on anything for the whole college +to do together, and finally abandoned the quest +for a bright idea and decided to let everybody raise +money in any way they could think of and put it +all together to make up the total. The Board of +Trustees offered a silver loving cup to the individual, +club, sorority, group or clique of any kind +that raised the largest amount inside of a month.</p> +<p>The day that was announced there was a hastily +called meeting of the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div> +<p>“We’re going to win that loving cup,” declared +Hinpoha in a tone of finality. “This is our chance +to show what we’re made of. Up until now we’ve +been doing little easy ‘Give Services.’ At last we’re +up against something big. Now is the time for +all good men to come to the aid of their party. The +WINNEBAGOS have never fallen down on anything +yet that they undertook and they’re not going +to now. We’re going to win that contest. Won’t +Nyoda be proud of us?”</p> +<p>We cheered until the windows rattled and then +Migwan brought us to earth with a thud. “How +are we going to do it?” she asked soberly. We all +fell silent and donned our thinking caps. Minutes +passed but nobody sprouted a bright idea. Suggestion +after suggestion was made, only to be turned +down flat.</p> +<p>“We might give a circus,” suggested Hinpoha +rather doubtfully. “Remember the circus we gave +at home last year?”</p> +<p>“There have been nine circuses of various kinds +already this year,” wet-blanketed Agony. “You +couldn’t hire anybody to attend another.”</p> +<p>“Masquerade as seeresses and give select parlor +readings of people’s futures,” suggested Oh-Pshaw. +“We could charge five dollars for a reading.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div> +<p>“Been done already,” said Migwan. “Anyway, +the faculty have forbidden it. The girls that did it +last year scandalized a prominent Trustee’s wife by +telling her that her daughter was going to elope +with an Italian count before the month was out. +The daughter had married a minister the week before, +only the girls didn’t know it, and the Trustee’s +wife got so excited she sat down on a two-hundred-dollar +Satsuma vase and smashed it and tried to sue +the seeresses for damages. Then, of course, she +found out they were students and the faculty put +an end to parlor seeresses.”</p> +<p>That’s the way it went. Not a plan was suggested +but what turned out to be old stuff or not +practicable.</p> +<p>“Oh, for an idea!” groaned Agony, beating her +white brow with the palm of her hand.</p> +<p>“We might go round with a hand organ,” suggested +Oh-Pshaw in desperation. “Gladys could be +the monkey and pass around a tin cup.”</p> +<p>“Thanks, I wouldn’t think of aspiring to such an +honor,” I replied modestly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div> +<p>“What we want,” said Migwan decidedly, “is a +fad—something that will take the college by storm +and separate them from their cash. I remember +last year some of the seniors started the fad of taking +impressions of the palm of your hand on paper +smoked with camphor gum and sending them away +to have the lines read by some noted palmist, and +they made oceans of money at twenty-five cents an +impression.”</p> +<p>We talked possible fads until we were green in +the face, but nobody got an inspiration and we +finally adjourned with our heads in a whirl.</p> +<p>The next day I went into a deserted classroom +for a book I had left behind and found Sally +Prindle with her head down on one of the desks, +crying. By that time I had forgotten how disagreeable +she had been to us and hastened over to see +what was the matter.</p> +<p>“What’s the trouble, Sally?” I asked, laying my +hand on her shoulder.</p> +<p>Sally started up and tried to wipe the tears away +hastily. “Nothing,” she answered in a flat voice.</p> +<p>“There is too something,” I said determinedly, +and sat down on the desk in front of her.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div> +<p>She looked at me sort of defiantly for a minute +and then she broke down altogether. Between sobs +she told me that she wasn’t going to be able to +come back to college next year because she hadn’t +won the big Andrews prize in mathematics she had +counted confidently on winning, and she had +worked so hard for it that she had neglected her +other work, and the first thing she knew she had +a condition in Latin. Besides, she was sick and +couldn’t do the hard work she had been doing outside +to pay her board.</p> +<p>I never saw anyone so broken up over anything. +I wouldn’t have expected her to care whether she +came back to college or not; I couldn’t see what fun +she had ever gotten out of it, but I suppose in her +own queer way she must have enjoyed it. I tried +to comfort her by telling her that the way would +probably be found somehow if she took it up with +the right people, but Sally wasn’t the kind of girl +that took comfort easily. Life was terribly serious +to her. She felt disgraced because she hadn’t won +the prize and was sure nobody would want to lend +her money to finish her course. I left her at last +with my heart aching because of the uneven way +things are distributed in this world.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div> +<p>Our room was a mess when I got back. Our +floor was entertaining the floor below that night and +Hinpoha was in the show. She was standing in the +middle of the room draping my dresser scarf around +her shoulders for a fichu, while Agony was piling +her hair high on her head for her and Oh-Pshaw +was pinning on a train made of bath towels.</p> +<p>“Have you a blue velvet band?” Hinpoha demanded +thickly, as I entered, through the pins she +was holding in her mouth.</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t,” I replied, retiring to a corner +to escape the sweeping strokes of the hair brush in +Agony’s hand.</p> +<p>“Why haven’t you?” lamented Hinpoha. “I just +<i>have</i> to have one.”</p> +<p>“What for?” I asked.</p> +<p>“To put around my neck, of course,” explained +Hinpoha impatiently. “It’s absolutely necessary to +finish off this costume. Go out and scrape one up +somewhere, Gladys, there’s a dear.”</p> +<p>I obediently made the rounds, but nowhere did +I find the desired blue band. Not even a ribbon of +the right shade was forthcoming.</p> +<p>“Paint one on,” suggested Agony, with an inspiration +born of despair. “Then you’ll surely have +it the right shade.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div> +<p>“The paint box is in the bottom dresser drawer,” +said Hinpoha, warming to the plan at once. “Hurry +up, Agony.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll not have time to do it,” said Agony, +moving toward the door. “I’ve got just fifteen minutes +left to sew the ruffle back on the bottom of my +white dress to wear in chapel to-morrow when we +sing for the bishop, and it’s really more important +for the country’s cause that I have a white dress to +wear to-morrow than that you have a blue band +around your neck to-night. My green and purple +plaid silk would look chaste and retiring among the +spotless white of the choir, now, wouldn’t it?” And +swinging her hairbrush she went out. Oh-Pshaw +had already disappeared.</p> +<p>“Here, Gladys,” said Hinpoha, holding out the +box to me, “mix the turquoise with a little ultramarine.”</p> +<p>“I’m awfully sorry, ’Poha, but I can’t stop,” +said I. “I’ve an interview with Miss Allison in +five minutes. Get somebody else, dear.”</p> +<p>“Everybody’s rushed to death,” grumbled Hinpoha.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div> +<p>I went off to keep my appointment and Hinpoha +took up her watch for a passer-by whom she could +bully into painting a blue band on her neck. Being +part of the surprise for the guests she couldn’t very +well go out and risk being seen; she just had to stay +in the room and wait for someone from our floor +to come along. For a long while nobody came, +and then, when she was about ready to give up, she +did hear footsteps coming down the corridor. It +was dark by that time and she couldn’t see who it +was, but she pounced out like a cat on a mouse and +dragged the girl into her room.</p> +<p>“Paint a blue band on my neck, quick!” she commanded, +thrusting out the paint box and switching +on the light.</p> +<p>Then she saw who it was. It was Sally Prindle. +Hinpoha was a little taken aback, but she had about +exhausted her patience waiting for someone to come +by and help her.</p> +<p>“Will you, please?” she pleaded, holding out the +paints enticingly.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Sally dully, looking at Hinpoha +in that crazy costume as if she thought she +was not in her right mind.</p> +<p>Hinpoha explained the urgent and immediate need +of a blue band of a certain shade on her neck.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_224">[224]</div> +<p>“But I never painted anything before,” objected +Sally.</p> +<p>“You’ll never learn any younger,” said Hinpoha, +jubilant that Sally hadn’t walked out with her nose +in the air. “Here, take the brush, I’ll show you +what to mix; see, this and this and this.”</p> +<p>Under Hinpoha’s direction Sally painted the blue +band and then regarded her handiwork with critical +eyes.</p> +<p>“Thanks, that’s fine,” said Hinpoha, holding out +her hand for the paints.</p> +<p>“It needs something more,” said Sally slowly, +squinting at Hinpoha’s neck. “Do you mind if I +use any more paint?”</p> +<p>“Go as far as you like,” said Hinpoha, surprised +into flippancy, “let your conscience be your guide!”</p> +<p>Sally made swift dabs at the little color squares, +her face all puckered up in a deep frown of concentration.</p> +<p>“Now, how do you like it?” she asked anxiously, +after a few minutes, leading Hinpoha to the +mirror.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_225">[225]</div> +<p>Hinpoha says she screamed right out when she +looked, she was so surprised and delighted. For +on the front of the band Sally had painted the most +wonderful ornament. It was an enormous ruby, +set in a gold frame, the design of which simply +took your breath away. How she ever did it with +the colors in Hinpoha’s box is beyond us.</p> +<p>“Oh, wonderful!” raved Hinpoha, hugging Sally +in her extravagant way. “I can’t wait until the +girls see it. Won’t I make a sensation, though! +Come to the party, won’t you please, Sally? We’d +love to have you.”</p> +<p>Sally shook her head and prepared to depart. “I +have to go,” she said with a return to her old +brusque manner. “I have another engagement.”</p> +<p>But Hinpoha saw the wistful look that came into +her face and she knew that Sally’s “other engagement” +was waiting on table in the boarding house +where she lived.</p> +<p>Hinpoha’s painted jewelry created a sensation all +right. Cries of admiration rose on every side, and +the fact that the stony-faced Sally Prindle had +done it only added to the sensation. Who would +ever have suspected that the most inartistic-looking +girl in the whole college had such a talent up her +sleeve?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_226">[226]</div> +<p>Two days later there was another excited meeting +of the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS.</p> +<p>“Our fortune’s made!” shrieked Agony joyfully, +dancing around the room and waving a Japanese +umbrella over her head.</p> +<p>“Why? How?” we all cried.</p> +<p>“The fad! The fad!” shouted Agony.</p> +<p>“What fad?” I asked. “Do stop capering, +Agony, and put down that umbrella before you +break the lamp shade. We’ve smashed three already +this year.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you see,” continued Agony, breathless, +dropping down on the bed and fanning herself with +the handle of the umbrella. “Hinpoha’s started a +fad with that painted jewelry—blessings on that +fool notion of hers of painting a band on her neck, +anyway! Half a dozen girls came to classes this +morning with bands painted on their necks and ornaments +in front that they’d gotten Sally to paint for +them. In another day the whole college will be +after her to paint ornaments on their necks. Don’t +you see what I mean? We’ve got to join forces +with Sally, set up in business for the Benefit of +the Red Cross—and the cup is ours. Whoop-la! +Oh, girls, don’t you <i>see</i>!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_227">[227]</div> +<p>We saw, all right. Inside of two minutes Sally +was voted a member of the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS +and in a few hours business was in full +swing. Sally, of course, was the star of the cast, +but the rest of us worked just as hard as press +agents. We placarded the whole college with posters +announcing that Mme. Sallie Prindle, the +distinguished painter of jewelry, would create, for +the benefit of the Red Cross, any combination of +precious stones desired by the paintee—charges +twenty-five cents and up. Students were urged to +show their patriotism by appearing in classroom +adorned with one of the masterpieces of the above-mentioned +Prindle.</p> +<p>It was a success from the word go. The fad +spread like wildfire, and Sally spent all her waking +hours that were not actually taken up with recitations +painting jewelry on fair necks and arms. Lessons +were almost forgotten in the fascinating business +of admiring designs and comparing effects, +and many were the wails because the wonderful +things had to be washed off all too soon. We had +offered our room as studio because Sally’s was too +far away from the center of things, and most of the +time it was so crowded with eager customers that +we couldn’t get in ourselves. Prices rose as business +increased, and the candy box we were using +for a bank showed signs of collapsing.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_228">[228]</div> +<p>The next week the juniors gave a dance and they +all ordered dog collars for the occasion. Everybody +else had to stand aside. Prices for these were +to be one dollar and up, according to how elaborate +they were. How Sally ever got them all on without +fainting in her tracks will always be a mystery. +She did a lot of them the night before and then +the girls wound their necks with gauze bandages +to keep them clean. Miss Allison, who dropped in +during the performance, folded up on the bed and +laughed until she was weak.</p> +<p>“I never saw anything to equal it, never,” she +declared. “There’s never been such a fad in the +history of the college.” Then she sat up and demanded +a dog collar herself.</p> +<p>“Why on earth didn’t you tell us you could paint +jewelry, Sally Prindle?” she asked, as she watched +those swift fingers doing their wonderful work. +“Of all things, wasting your time specializing in +mathematical figures, when all the time you had +designs like these in your head!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_229">[229]</div> +<p>“I never knew I could do it,” said Sally in a +funny, bewildered fashion that set the girls all +a-laughing. “I never had a paint brush in my hand +before. <i>She</i>,”—pointing to Hinpoha—“put the +things into my hands and ordered me to paint, and +I painted. It came to me all of a sudden.”</p> +<p>Did we get the loving cup? I should say we did! +By the end of the month we had raised five hundred +and some odd dollars, more than half of the total, +and by far the largest amount raised by any group. +We were all wrecks by the time it was over, because +we had to take turns waiting on table down at +Sally’s boarding house to hold her job for her while +she worked up in our room; besides getting the +paint off the girls’ necks again. That wasn’t always +an easy job because sometimes she had to use +things beside water colors to get certain effects.</p> +<p>But it was well worth our while, for the LAST +OF THE WINNEBAGOS have achieved undying +fame. Migwan started it with her fake Indian +legend and the rest of us surely carried it to a grand +finish. The best of the whole business, though, was +getting Sally.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_230">[230]</div> +<p>Do you know why she was so queer and stand-offish +to people all this while? She told us in a +burst of confidence that night after we had been +given the loving cup. O Katherine, it would almost +break your heart. It seems she has a brother who +forged a note last year and was sent to prison. She +considered that money a debt of honor which she +must pay back, and so she came away to college, +planning to work her way through and become a +teacher of mathematics, which was her strong subject. +But she had taken her brother’s disgrace so to +heart that she thought the people in college would +consider her an outcast if they found it out, and, +rather than go through the misery of having people +drop her after they had been friendly with her she +made up her mind to make no friends at all, and +then she didn’t need to worry about their finding +it out and cutting her. It broke her all up to turn +down our offers of friendship last fall and she left +Purgatory because she couldn’t bear to see us after +that.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_231">[231]</div> +<p>Think of it, Katherine, what she must have suffered, +and nobody to tell it to! And everybody +calling her a prune! We all cried over her and +assured her a million times we didn’t care a rap +what her brother had done; we loved her and were +proud to have her for a friend. She was a different +girl after that. All the stiffness came out of +her like magic and she looked like a person who has +been let out of prison after being shut up for years. +Her great dread all the time had been that somebody +would find out about her brother; now that +we actually knew it and it didn’t make a bit of +difference, the big load was off her spirits. From +being the most unpopular girl in the class she suddenly +became one of the most popular.</p> +<p>All her money troubles faded too, because she got +work making designs for a big Art Craft jewelry +shop that paid her enough so she didn’t have to +borrow any more money.</p> +<p>The nicest part of it all, though, was what Agony +did. The night that Sally Prindle told us about +her brother Agony wrote to her father, who, I +imagine, must be a very influential man, and asked +if he could get Sally’s brother pardoned. Just how +Agony’s father went about it we will never know, +but not long afterward Sally got a letter from her +brother saying that he had been pardoned on the +condition that he would enlist in the army, which +he had done.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_232">[232]</div> +<p>Think what that meant to Sally! Instead of being +afraid anyone would find out she had a brother +she could now speak of him as proudly as the other +girls did who had brothers in the army; could take +her place with the proudest of them.</p> +<p>Oh, Katherine, if we could only see right through +people and know just why they do things the way +they do, what a wonderful world this would be!</p> +<p><span class="center">Lovingly yours,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Gladys.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_233">[233]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">April 25, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Winnies:</span></p> +<p>I thought it had all happened, that is, everything +that was going to happen for the next ten years, +but it seemed that the excitement of the last few +weeks was but a beginning, and a very humble beginning +at that! We had just gotten over the +sensation of the fire and the arrest of the negro, +and school was in running order again and life in +general had resumed the even tenor of its ways, +when, without warning, the sky fell on the house of +Adams. They say that coming events cast their +shadows before, and that everything works out according +to a fixed rule, but this could only have +been the exception that proved the rule. Having +battered around this wicked world for twenty years +I thought I was prepared for all the shocks that +human flesh is heir to, and that no matter what +happened there was a special rule of etiquette to +fit it, but there was nothing in all my experience, +nor in the Ten Commandments, nor Hoyle, nor +Avogadro’s Hypothesis, nor Grimm’s Law, that prepared +me for what happened next.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_234">[234]</div> +<p>Saturday was the fateful day. Saturday is the +day on which everything happens to me. I was +born on Saturday; it was on Saturday I met you +and landed headfirst into the Winnebago circus; it +was on Saturday I heard the news that I was not +to go to college, and, I suppose, in the order of +human events, I shall die on Saturday.</p> +<p>On this Saturday morning—can it be only yesterday?—I +sat in the doorway peacefully knitting +and occasionally gazing off into space as my +thoughts wandered, flitting from subject to subject +like the yellow butterflies that flashed from flower +to flower. The sunshine sprayed over the roof and +glinted on my amber needles, until it seemed that I +was knitting sunshine right into the socks. I was +filled with a vast contentment that throbbed in my +temples and quivered in my toes; from head to foot +I was “in tune with the infinite.” That morning +father and I had gone over our accounts and our +balance was so satisfactory that we figured in another +year we could finish paying off the mortgage.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_235">[235]</div> +<p>When I complimented father on his talent for +stock farming, he said simply: “It’s all owing to +you. You put new life into us again. We never +could have done it alone. Besides, I reckon most of +the sharp bargaining in horseflesh was done by you. +You got more out of people than I ever did. You’ve +kept up the collections, too. You never got +cheated once. You’re certainly worth your salt as a +business manager, child.”</p> +<p>Imagine it! Calling me his business manager! +I wasn’t an absolute good-for-nothing, then.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_236">[236]</div> +<p>All these things went serenely through my mind +as I sat there knitting in the sunshine, and laying +my plans for summer pleasures. I would take the +Wenonahs and go off camping somewhere in the +woods for a week or two and give them a taste of +real life in the open. The picture of that little camp +rose vividly before me, and I planned out the details +minutely. We would have to have a tent—somewhere +or other I must acquire this necessary +article. A humorous thought came to me of moving +the schoolhouse out into the woods for a +camper’s dwelling, and in imagination I saw it +bumping along behind us on our journey, with Justice +walking along beside it, carrying the chimney +in his arms. I laughed aloud at my incongruous +fancies, startling a hen that was clucking at my +feet so that she fled with a scandalized squawk, stopping +a few yards away to look around at me inquiringly, +as if trying to figure out what was coming +from me next. The hen broke up my fancies +and I returned to my knitting with a start to find I +had dropped several stitches and had a place in the +heel of my sock that looked like the stem end of +an apple. I raveled back and painstakingly re-knitted +the heel, then I laid my knitting in my lap +and gazed dreamily up the road, resting my eyes on +the tender greenness of the fields.</p> +<p>Sitting thus I saw an automobile coming into +view along the road. I watched it idly, glittering +in the sunlight. To my surprise it turned into our +lane and approached the house. I went down to +the drive to meet it; tourists frequently stopped at +the houses for water or for directions, and I would +save these people the trouble of getting out of the +car. The big machine rolled up to the drive and +came to a standstill with a soft sliding of brakes.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_237">[237]</div> +<p>Then a loud, hearty voice called out, “Why here +she is now! Katherine Adams, don’t you know me? +Don’t suppose you do, with these infernal glasses +on.”</p> +<p>I looked hard at the man in the long linen dust +coat and tourist cap who sat alone in the car; then +my eyes nearly popped out of my head.</p> +<p>“Why, Judge Dalrymple!” I exclaimed, starting +forward with a cry of joy and seizing the outstretched +hand. “Where did you come from? Are +you touring? How did you ever happen to stop +here?” I tumbled the questions out thick and fast.</p> +<p>“I didn’t ‘happen’ to stop here,” said the Judge +in his decisive way. “I’ve been rolling over these +endless roads for three days on purpose to get here. +Lord, what a God-forsaken country! And now that +I <i>am</i> here at last,” he added, “aren’t you going to +ask me in? Where’s your father?”</p> +<p>“Excuse me,” said I, blushing furiously. “I was +so taken by surprise at seeing you that I even forgot +my own name, to say nothing of my manners. +Come right in.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_238">[238]</div> +<p>I settled him in the best chair in the house, +brought him a glass of water and left him talking to +mother in his hearty way while I went out in search +of father. Father was painting a shed when I +found him, and he came just the way he was, with +streaks of paint on his jumper and overalls. If +he had had any inkling of what he was being summoned +to——!</p> +<p>Judge Dalrymple was just as pleased to meet +father in his paint-streaked jumper as if he had been +a senator in a silk hat, and after the first moment +of embarrassment father felt as if the Judge were +an old-time friend.</p> +<p>Then the Judge began to explain why he had +come, and the bomb dropped on the roof of the +house of Adams. I couldn’t comprehend it at first +any more than father could. It sounded like a +page out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. But it seemed +that he knew all about the company my father had +lost his money in last summer, and he and some +other men bought it up and set it on its feet again. +War orders had suddenly boomed it and it was now +solid as a rock. The original stockholders still held +their shares and would draw their dividends as soon +as they were declared, which Judge Dalrymple +prophesied would be soon. Our days of struggling +were over. We were “hard-uppers” no longer; we +were “well off” at last. I left the Judge and father +talking over the details of the business and wandered +aimlessly around the dooryard, trying to comprehend +the meaning of what had happened to us, +and capering as each new thing occurred to me. My +narrow horizon had suddenly rolled back and the +whole world lay before me. College—travel—study—return +to my beloved friends in the east—best +doctors for mother—all those things kaleidoscoped +before me, leaving me giddy and faint. I seized a +hoe and began to demolish an ant hill for sheer +exuberance of spirits.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_239">[239]</div> +<p>“What’s the matter, have you had a sunstroke?” +asked Justice Sherman, suddenly appearing beside +me from somewhere.</p> +<p>“Worse than that, it’s an earthquake,” I replied. +“Take a deep breath, Justice Sherman, because +you’re going to need it in a minute.”</p> +<p>Then I told him about father’s investing his +money in the western oil company last summer and +apparently losing it, and how the company had unexpectedly +come to life again.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_240">[240]</div> +<p>“Whew!” said Justice, looking dazed for a minute; +then he expressed the sincerest joy at our good +fortune I have ever heard one mortal express at +the prosperity of another. But after his congratulations +were all made he stopped short as if he had +just thought of something and then he said slowly, +“I suppose you’ll be going away from here now; +moving out west, possibly to San Francisco?” It +seemed to me that he looked very sober at the +thought.</p> +<p>“Not if I know it,” I replied decisively. “It’ll +be the east for me, if I go anywhere, where the +Winnebagos have their hunting grounds.”</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> going away then?” asked Justice composedly.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “Nothing is +settled yet. Give us time to catch our breath. In +the meantime, come in and meet our guest, the new +president of the Pacific Refining Company, who +came to tell us the good news.”</p> +<p>Justice assumed an exaggerated air of dignity +and formality that upset my composure so I could +hardly keep my face straight as I walked into the +house.</p> +<p>“Oh, Judge,” I called blithely, “here is the rest +of the happy family. Justice, this is Judge Dalrymple.”</p> +<p>Then the second bomb dropped.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_241">[241]</div> +<p>For, at the sight of Justice, Judge Dalrymple +sprang out of his chair with a hoarse sound in his +throat as if he were choking, and stood staring at +him as if he had seen a ghost. Justice looked fit to +drop.</p> +<p>“Father!” he said weakly.</p> +<p>“Justice!” said Judge Dalrymple with dry lips. +“How did you get here? Where have you been all +this time?”</p> +<p>“Out west,” replied Justice.</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell us where you were??” asked +the Judge, sitting down heavily again.</p> +<p>“I merely followed your instructions,” replied +Justice with dignity. “You told me to get out; that +you didn’t ever want to hear from me again, and I +took you at your word.”</p> +<p>“I was a fool, a blind fool, and in a great rage +when I said that. I didn’t mean it,” said the Judge, +in a choking voice.</p> +<p>“But you said it, nevertheless,” replied Justice, +“and I was hot-headed and went.”</p> +<p>“What have you been doing all this time?” asked +the Judge curiously.</p> +<p>“Roughing it,” replied Justice, in the tone of one +who has great adventures to tell, “until I came here +and turned into a professor.” A humorous twinkle +lit up his eye as he mentioned the word “Professor.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_242">[242]</div> +<p>In a daze of astonishment father, mother and I +watched this unexpected meeting and reconciliation +between father and son. In due time we had all +the story. Judge Dalrymple had set his heart on +having his oldest son, Justice, become a lawyer like +himself, and go into his law firm as junior partner. +But Justice had no liking for the law. All he +wanted to do was tinker with electrical things. It +was the only thing in the world he cared for. When +he got through college and his father insisted upon +his entering the law school he flatly refused. There +was a scene and he and his father quarreled bitterly. +His father told him he could either go to law +school or get out and hoe for himself and he chose +the latter. He left home. All the while he had +been in college he had been working on an electrical +device to enable deaf men to receive wireless +messages. He now went to work on this and finished +it, and, boylike, thought his fortune was made. +But it seemed fortune had turned her back on him. +He had no money himself to market the device and +he could not succeed in interesting anyone with capital. +He spent many weary days, going from one +place to another with his invention, only to meet +with failure on all sides. He had always had delicate +health and the long hours he had spent indoors +working on his beloved experiments finally told on +him and he developed a throat trouble which made +it impossible for him to stay in the north. One +day, in a moment of great discouragement, he threw +his invention into the New York harbor and sorrowfully +gave up his dream of being an inventor. +He was down and out but still too proud to write +home and ask help from his father. He had a +chance to act as chauffeur for a party of ladies who +wanted to tour the west and in this manner he made +his way to Texas. He worked there on a sheep +ranch for a number of months; then, seized with a +desire to see the country, he worked his way through +the Territory and into Arkansas, and finally into +the township of Spencer, where he was attacked by +robbers one night on the road, robbed of all his +belongings and left lying there with his head cut +open. Then it was that he had wandered into our +stable, was found, and nursed back to health.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_243">[243]</div> +<p>Our climate agreed with him so well that he decided +to stay for a while, and got the position of +teaching in the high school at Spencer, which wasn’t +very hard work. The long walk or drive in the +open, back and forth every day, and his sleeping +in the airy shack, gradually worked a cure to his +throat, and brought back the health he had lost +through overwork and disappointment.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_244">[244]</div> +<p>Besides—just listen to this, will you—he said +that I had given him such an amazing new outlook +on life that he wanted to stay as near to me as he +could and learn my philosophy. He had been +utterly discouraged when he came, had lost his grip +on things, and didn’t care a hang what became of +him, but I had put new life and ambition back +into him. Imagine it! My philosophy!</p> +<p>He had resolved to have nothing more to do with +his father after he had turned him out, and dropped +the name of Dalrymple, going by the name of Justice +Sherman. His full name was Justice Sherman +Dalrymple.</p> +<p>Thus ended the mystery of the scholarly sheep +herder. The son of <i>my</i> Judge Dalrymple! I +couldn’t believe it, but it was true beyond a doubt. +I <i>did</i> know a hawk from a handsaw, after all. No +wonder he had looked so sad sometimes when he +thought no one was watching him, with such memories +to brood over! No wonder he had acted so +queerly when I told him what we had done to +Antha and Anthony up on Ellen’s Isle. They were +his younger brother and sister!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_245">[245]</div> +<p>Judge Dalrymple was speaking to Sherman again. +“So you threw your invention into the New York +Harbor, did you?” he said regretfully. “It’s too +bad, because some one to whom you showed it has +been writing and writing to the house about it. I +couldn’t forward the letter because I had no idea +where you were. The Government wants to try +out your invention. I never dreamed that those +fool experiments you were forever making amounted +to anything. I see now you were wiser than I. +Come home, boy, and tinker all you like. We’ll +throw the lawyer business into the discard. Could +you build up your thingummyjig again?”</p> +<p>At this astonishing news Justice began whooping +like a wild Indian. “Could I build it up again?” he +shouted. “Just give me a chance. Just watch me!” +He seized me around the waist and began jigging +with me all over the floor.</p> +<p>“Save the pieces,” I panted, sinking into a chair +and making a vain attempt to smooth back my flying +hair.</p> +<p>Then I noticed that Judge Dalrymple was looking +at me with eyes filled with awe, not to say fear.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_246">[246]</div> +<p>“Girl, what are you?” he asked in a strange voice. +“Are you Fate? Every time I come in touch with +you, you work some miracle in my household. First +you perform a magic in my two younger children, +and then when I attempt to make some slight return +for your great service and seek you out, I find that +you have also drawn my other child to you from out +of the Vast and worked as great a miracle in him. +Are you human or superhuman, that you can play +with people’s destinies like that? Under what star +were you born, anyway?”</p> +<p>“Weren’t any stars at all,” I replied, laughing. +“The sun was shining!”</p> +<p>O my Winnies, what a day this has been! The +sun rose exactly as on any other day, without any +warning of what was coming, and yet before he set +the world had been turned topsy turvy for five people! +Isn’t life glorious, though? Mercy, but I’m +glad I was born!</p> +<p><span class="center">Breathlessly yours,</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_247">[247]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">April 27, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Oh, My Winnies:</span></p> +<p>How can I tell it? Father died to-day. Heart +failure, brought on by excitement over the fire and +the coming of Judge Dalrymple. Think of it! +After all these years of hard work and grinding +poverty and bitter disappointment, to fall just at the +moment when success and prosperity were within +reach. Oh, the terrible irony of Life!</p> +<p><span class="center">Your broken-hearted</span> +<br /><span class="author"><span class="sc">Katherine</span>.</span></p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_248">[248]</div> +<h3>KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS</h3> +<p><span class="date">May 9, 19—.</span> +<br /><span class="sc">Dearest Winnies:</span></p> +<p>Thanks, a thousand times, for all the beautiful, +comforting letters you wrote. When did anyone +ever have such friends as I? Everyone has been so +kind, so sympathetic. The whole countryside turned +out to help us. Judge Dalrymple and Justice are +still here, straightening up father’s affairs. The +farm and the stock are to be sold. Mother is sick; +father’s death was a great shock to her. As soon +as she is better she and I are going home with Judge +Dalrymple for a visit. We are going to motor back +with him and Justice—won’t it be glorious? Justice +is going back home to live. He and his father have +become great pals; it is perfect joy to watch them +going about like two boys, arm in arm. You never +see one without the other any more. Now that they +are together it is possible to see quite a resemblance, +but Justice is much handsomer than his father ever +could have been. Sandhelo acted just as though he +remembered the Judge from last summer; he +squealed when he saw him and put his nose into his +pocket. We had a council about what should become +of Sandhelo and finally decided that he was to +be sent home to Judge Dalrymple’s to be a pet for +Antha and Anthony. Sandhelo nodded solemnly +when we told him, as much as to say it was all right +with him. I have a queer feeling all the time that +that mule is more than half human. He has such +an uncanny way of taking people’s affairs into his +own hands, sometimes. Did he not recognize Justice +in the road that night when I would have fled +from him, thinking he was the negro, Solomon, and +didn’t he scare Solomon into confessing that he had +set fire to Elijah Butts’ cotton storehouse?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_249">[249]</div> +<p>To-morrow is May 10th, the date that school +closes in this district, and I have planned a farewell +celebration for the scholars. I am going +to give them “for keeps” all the things that came +from the House of the Open Door, besides all the +splendid things that came for Christmas, to be the +property of the Corners schoolhouse from that time +on henceforward, to make of it another House of +the Open Door.</p> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">May 10th, Evening.</span></p> +<p>Another amazing day! Do you know, I half believe +that I have been transported in a dream back +to the land of witches and fairies, and have to keep +pinching myself to make sure I’m still myself, Katherine +Adams, and not some other girl who has gotten +into my shoes by mistake. I have a dreadful +fear that I will find my real self sitting in the road +somewhere, tumbled off old Major’s back as he +ambled along, reading in some book of romance the +wonderful things that are happening to this new, +strange self. And presently it will be time to go +home and help with supper, and romance will come +to an end with the closing of the book.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_250">[250]</div> +<p>But I guess I’m real, all right. Before the door +stands Judge Dalrymple’s car, latest model; its loud, +raucous voice containing no hint of elfin horns as it +announces the return of Justice and his father from +a spin in the country. Beside me on the table is the +deed of sale of our property, made out to one Jim +Wiggin, and drawn up on very substantial-looking +paper; and on my wrist sparkles the beautiful little +gold watch which is a very tangible souvenir of this +last amazing day. It ticks away companionably, as +if to reassure me of its realness. I have named it +Thomas Tickle, and we are going to be inseparable +friends.</p> +<p>You remember I told you I had planned a little +last-day-of-school celebration for the scholars? +Well!!! As it turned out, it made the Pageant look +like five cents’ worth of laundry soap by comparison. +When I got to school in the morning I found +the schoolhouse draped with flags and bunting, inside +and outside, and my desk piled a foot high with +great red roses.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_251">[251]</div> +<p>Then the people began to arrive. It seemed the +whole county was there. My eyes began to pop out +of my head as one after another of the celebrities +began to arrive. The School Board from Spencer +came <i>en phalanx</i>, and in marching order behind +them came the high school pupils with Justice at +their head. The parents of the pupils were all there +in state and it soon became evident that we would +have to hold our closing exercises outdoors, as the +schoolhouse would not hold one-tenth of the crowd.</p> +<p>I was rushing around like a fire engine with the +steering gear gone, trying to find things for various +mothers to sit on, when I was conscious of a solemn +hush, and with a flourish the county school +commissioners drove up and with them came Miss +Fairlee, the Commission Lady.</p> +<p>Then there broke loose a sound of revelry by day. +My scholars did the folk dances and gave the little +play I taught them; the Camp Fire Girls held a ceremonial +meeting and gave demonstrations of poncho +rolling, camp cooking, etc., while the boys had an +exhibition of the articles they had made from wood, +out of the Dan Beard book.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_252">[252]</div> +<p>Then in a speech, which was more earnest than +eloquent, I gave to the school the furnishings from +the House of the Open Door, together with the +graphophone, the lantern and the slides, to have and +to hold, to be the foundation of a new House of the +Open Door. There was tumultuous applause, and I +sat down, red and perspiring, and my part of the +show was over.</p> +<p>Thereupon, up rose Absalom Butts, punched in +the back as I could see by three or four of the other +boys, and, swallowing his fourteen-year-old embarrassment +as well as he could, he thrust into my hands +a little blue velvet case, mumbling the while, “It’s +yours. From the school. In token of our—of +our——”</p> +<p>Here he forgot his speech, looked around wildly, +and then burst out:</p> +<p>“We’re givin’ it to you because you showed us +such a good time, and we’re sorry you’re goin’ +away!” Then he fled to his place and hid his blushes +behind Henry Smoot’s red head.</p> +<p>I opened the case and took out a dear little gold +wrist watch. I started to thank them, but choked +utterly when I thought of the sacrifices it must have +cost some of those people to help buy that watch.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_253">[253]</div> +<p>But this was no time for tears. The main dish +of the feast was being brought in. The chief of +the County school commissioners, the guest of +honor, rose pompously and made his way to the +front after being ceremoniously introduced by +Elijah Butts. After much clearing of the throat he +began a flowery speech about the fame that had +been gained throughout the county by the little +schoolhouse at our Corners on account of its Red +Cross activities and Patriotic Pageants; how it had +been made the social center for the people all around +and had helped educate them to better things; how +the boys and girls had learned more useful things +from me than from anyone else who had ever taught +there; and how Miss Fairlee, who had come from +the East to study rural school conditions in our section +had been quite carried away with my work, and +so on, <i>ad infinitum</i>.</p> +<p>Then, having loaded his cannon very carefully, +so to speak, he proceeded to fire it into the crowd +with telling effect. The County school commissioners, +he announced with a fine air of jocularity, had +heard that I was carrying the schoolhouse around +with me wherever I went, and as they were afraid +it might get mislaid some day they had voted to +build a new brick schoolhouse on a foundation; one +that couldn’t be moved. A new schoolhouse for +our district! Nobody had ever dared hope for such +a thing, not even in their wildest dreams. And it +seems that I had precipitated all this good fortune!</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_254">[254]</div> +<p>Later on I happened to hear this same commissioner +congratulating Elijah Butts on the good +teacher he had picked, and Elijah swelled up like a +pouter pigeon and replied:</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I spotted her for a good one the minute +I laid eyes on her. It was me that persuaded the +Board to hire her when some of them was holdin’ +back, favorin’ a different kind of female. Yessir, +it was me that picked her!”</p> +<p>Justice, who had also overheard the conversation, +winked solemnly and we both fled where we could +have our laugh out unnoticed.</p> +<p>But the best part of it all came after the Big +Show was over. Miss Fairlee came up and took me +by the arm and strolled away with me.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_255">[255]</div> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “would you consider leaving +this place and coming East with me? I need an assistant +in my Social Settlement work for the summer, +and there’s no one I’ve met in the whole country +that would fill the bill as well as you. For handling +difficult situations you are a perfect marvel. +Your talents are wasted out here—anyone can carry +on the work that you have started so wonderfully. +Won’t you please come?”</p> +<p>We talked about it a bit, and where do you suppose +this Social Settlement is? Where but in the +one spot on earth that I’d rather be than any other! +The same city, my dears, that has the honor of being +your home! It’s all settled now, and I am to go, +after my visit to the Dalrymples. Mother is going +into a big Sanitarium, and I am going to work with +Miss Fairlee through the summer.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_256">[256]</div> +<p>Clear the track! The Winnebago Special is about +to start once more! O my Winnies, don’t you see +the miracle of it all? Here I was, pining to live in +a House by the Side of the Road, when all the time +I <i>was</i> living in a House by the Side of the Road! It +was my little despised schoolhouse. I was sent here +by fate to prove myself worthy or unworthy of +what she had in store for me. I was taken away +from you that I might come back to a richer, fuller +life than I had dreamed of in the old days. It is +all part of a Plan, so big and wonderful that I lose +my breath when I think of it. But whatever the +Plan may turn out to be in the future, there’s only +one thing about it that interests me now, and that +is, I’m coming back to you. I’m coming back! +Back to my Winnies! Hang out the latchstring and +remove everything breakable, for the wanderer is +coming home!</p> +<p><span class="center">Your thrice-blessed</span> +<br /><span class="author">Katherine.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> +<ul> +<li>Punctuation and obvious typographical errors were corrected +without comment.</li> +<li>Page numbers were moved to paragraph boundaries; +several page numbers were omitted because there was no convenient +paragraph boundary.</li> +</ul> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="pg">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD***</p> +<p class="pg">******* This file should be named 36485-h.txt or 36485-h.zip *******</p> +<p class="pg">This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/8/36485">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/8/36485</a></p> +<p class="pg">Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p class="pg">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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