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diff --git a/37207-h/37207-h.htm b/37207-h/37207-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dab08da --- /dev/null +++ b/37207-h/37207-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15692 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Winona of the Camp Fire" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Margaret Widdemer" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1915" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.19) generated Aug 24, 2011 09:54 AM" /> + <title>Winona of the Camp Fire</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:0.9em; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; margin: 20px auto; width:35%} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Winona of the Camp Fire, by Margaret Widdemer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Winona of the Camp Fire + +Author: Margaret Widdemer + +Release Date: August 26, 2011 [EBook #37207] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINONA OF THE CAMP FIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/illus-cvr.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="THEY DESCENDED IN A BODY ON ADELAIDE’S TENT Page 125" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THEY DESCENDED IN A BODY ON ADELAIDE’S TENT <em>Page 125</em></span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;'>WINONA OF THE</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;'>CAMP FIRE</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>By</span> MARGARET WIDDEMER</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><span class='sc'>Author of</span></span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>“Winona of Camp Karonya,” “Winona’s War</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Farm,” “Winona’s Way.”</span></p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Publishers—New York</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>Published by arrangement with J. B. Lippincott Company</em></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Printed in U. S. A.</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1>WINONA OF THE CAMP FIRE</h1> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span>CHAPTER ONE</h2> +<p> +The room they called the Den in Winnie Merriam’s +house was dark, except for the leaping wood-fire in +the big stone fireplace. Around the fire sat and lay five +girls. They had been toasting marshmallows, but they +were past the point where you eat the toasted ones with +pleasure, or even steal the raw ones—which don’t taste +burnt—to eat surreptitiously. +</p> +<p> +“Helen Bryan, you’ve been feeding Puppums all +your marshmallows for the last ten minutes,” accused +Winnie, sitting up. She had been draping herself +along a pile of cushions for the last fifteen minutes—thinking, +evidently, for she had been quiet—a very +unusual thing for chattering Winnie. +</p> +<p> +Winnie Merriam was fourteen, but people usually +took her for a year older, because of her slim height. +She had big blue eyes in a face that was not regularly +pretty, perhaps, but so gay and pink-cheeked and quick-smiling +that people always <em>said</em> she was pretty—which +does quite as well. +</p> +<p> +Her chum, Helen, defiantly fed a last marshmallow +to the fat near-fox-terrier in the centre of the circle, +who didn’t particularly seem to want it. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got to be polite to my hostess’s dog, haven’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +I?” she retorted. “And he asked for them so pathetically!” +</p> +<p> +“I expect the poor old pup will look more pathetic +this time to-morrow,” said Winnie. “He’ll probably +look like Buster Brown’s Tige in the last pictures—both +paws up over his aching head. Then you’ll have +to come back here and hold ice on his fevered brow, +won’t she, Puppums?” +</p> +<p> +“Or yours, maybe,” suggested Marie Hunter, the +quiet brown girl in the corner. “What’s the matter, +Win? You haven’t said a word for ages. I’ve been +watching you.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve been <em>thinking</em>!” explained Winnie, nodding +her curly brown head with dignity. +</p> +<p> +“For the first time?” suggested Helen. “Don’t +do it if it hurts, honey.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Winnie placidly, “I’ve often been +known to do it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what were you thinking?” asked Edith +Hillis, lifting her yellow curls from Marie’s lap. Edith +was the fluffy member of the crowd, small for her +age, yellow-haired and blue-eyed and rather too much +dressed. She was supposed to care more for her complexion +than for anything else on earth except Marie +Hunter, but she was as sweet-tempered as she could be, +and everybody liked her. “You looked as if you were +thinking about something awfully interesting.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Winnie slowly, “I was thinking about +<em>us</em>. We know each other very, very well, and go together, +and have gorgeous times—I was thinking that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +it would be nice if we made ourselves into a club, or +some sort of a society.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, say! That’s a perfectly gorgeous idea!” exclaimed +chubby, red-haired Louise Lane, from behind +Helen. “I vote we <em>be</em> a club, right away!” +</p> +<p> +“But is five enough?” asked Marie doubtfully. +Marie was always the one who thought of things. +She was a good deal of a bookworm, and did a great +deal of beautiful embroidery, and never said much. +But she was the one the girls were apt to ask advice +of if they needed it badly. She was nearly a year +older than Winnie and Edith. Louise wasn’t quite +fourteen, and Helen would be fifteen in two months. +</p> +<p> +“I think five’s plenty,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t, exactly,” demurred Winnie. “Seems to +me there ought to be seven or eight anyway, or we’d +be like an army all major-generals.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” came from Helen sleepily. “But that +can wait. I think the thing to make up our minds +about first is—what would it do if it was a club? I +mean clubs have to have some object.” +</p> +<p> +“Why!” exclaimed Winnie blankly, “I never +thought of that!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” still opposed Louise, “I don’t see why +we have to have an object. Just meet, and have a +president and secretary and things, and enjoy ourselves.” +</p> +<p> +“What about an embroidery club?” suggested +Edith. “Marie and I like to embroider.” +</p> +<p> +“I <em>don’t</em>,” said Louise flatly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +</p> +<p> +“Nannie was telling me about a walking-club she +belonged to,” Helen suggested pacifically. +</p> +<p> +Nannie was Helen’s step-mother—not at all like +the step-mothers in the fairy-tales, but a pretty, gay +woman of about twenty-eight, who was great friends +with her step-daughter and the step-daughter’s chums. +</p> +<p> +“A hiking-club?” asked Winnie. “That would +be fun. Why couldn’t we combine both those things in +one?” +</p> +<p> +“Lovely!” jeered Louise. “I can see myself trotting +along up a mountain, embroidering as I go!” +</p> +<p> +“Listen to Louise being sarcastic!” said Helen. +“I think the idea of combining two or three things is +a splendid one.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s splendid?” asked a bright voice from +the darkness at the other end of the room. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, are you there, Nannie?” called Helen. +“We’re planning a club—a very fine combination club +where you do everything.” +</p> +<p> +“It sounds like a Camp Fire,” said Nannie. “Your +father’s downstairs, Helen. I ran up to tell you that +we’re ready to go whenever you are.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, not yet, please!” begged Winnie. “What +is a Camp Fire, Mrs. Bryan? Do come sit down by us, +and have some marshmallows.” +</p> +<p> +“It corresponds to the Boy Scouts,” Mrs. Bryan +explained, dropping down among the girls, “and it +includes doing about everything there is to do. It’s +national, though, and you’re affiliated with headquarters.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src="images/illus-010.jpg" alt="THEY MADE HER TELL THEM ALL SHE KNEW ABOUT CAMP FIRES" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THEY MADE HER TELL THEM ALL SHE KNEW ABOUT CAMP FIRES</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<p> +“Regular dues and meetings?” asked Helen, +pricking up her ears. “Oh, stay here, Nannie, and tell +us all about it!” +</p> +<p> +They surrounded Mrs. Bryan, and made her tell +them all she knew about Camp Fires, which was a good +deal. +</p> +<p> +“I like it!” announced Louise when Mrs. Bryan +was done. “Me be heap big chiefess—wahoo-oo!” +</p> +<p> +She jumped up as she spoke and waved Helen’s +best hat above her head for a hatchet. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my hat!” cried Helen, making a wild dive +for it. Puppums thought it was all a game for his +special benefit, and dived after them—and the meeting +broke up in disorder. But not before the girls had +decided to <em>be</em> a Camp Fire, and made Mrs. Bryan +promise to act as their Guardian. +</p> +<p> +Winnie, after the girls had gone, returned alone +to the fire, and sat down by it, thinking over the things +she had been hearing. +</p> +<p> +“It’s going to be heaps of fun,” was the first thing +she thought, and then, “It’s going to take lots of time!” +</p> +<p> +Then she got up and shook herself. “Anyway, I +love it!” she decided. Then she put the lights out +and went to bed. +</p> +<p> +Helen Bryan was over early next morning. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Winnie!” she called up to her friend’s +window. +</p> +<p> +“Come on up!” called Winnie back. “I’ve just +had my bath, but I haven’t finished dressing.” +</p> +<p> +Helen came in by the open back door, spoke to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +Mrs. Merriam, who was getting breakfast, and tore +up the stairs to Winnie’s room. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, there’s such heaps to tell!” she announced +before she was well inside the room. “Rings and +bands and dresses and ceremonies and—everything! +Only we will have to take more girls in. You have +to have at least seven to start with.” +</p> +<p> +Helen stopped for lack of breath, and dropped on +the bed. Winnie, who was doing her hair before the +mirror, turned around. +</p> +<p> +“It’s like the Boy Scouts, only it’s girls,” she +decided thoughtfully. “Helen, I don’t see why we +can’t have just as good times as they do. Tom’s always +telling about the glorious times his patrol had last +summer, camping up near Wampoag. I don’t see why +we shouldn’t go camping, too, and have heaps of +fun!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course we can!” agreed Helen. “None +of your mothers will mind if Nannie goes along, and +she’ll have to if she’s Guardian.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on down and have breakfast with us,” invited +Winnie, straightening up from her last shoe-lace. +“You haven’t told me half the things there are to tell.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve had breakfast,” said Helen, “but——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you can eat some more,” insisted Winnie. +“We’re going to have flapjacks and maple syrup.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, all right,” said Helen, weakening. Flapjacks +and maple syrup did sound good. So they went +down together to the breakfast table. +</p> +<p> +Winnie’s family, her father and mother and her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +brother Tom, and eight-year-old Florence, had to be +told all about it. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t I be a Fire Camp Girl, too?” demanded +Florence on the spot. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know yet,” said Helen. “We’ll have to +find out.” +</p> +<p> +“I will be, whether you find out or not,” said +Florence, who was a determined young person, and +something of a tagger. +</p> +<p> +“Well, thank goodness, to-day’s Saturday,” and +Winnie changed the subject cheerfully. “We have all +day to find out in, and there’s scarcely any home-work +to do. Have you any, Helen?” +</p> +<p> +“Only a little history,” said Helen, “and I can do +that to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Such heaps of good times coming!” sang Winnie +rapturously as she sprang up from the table, to get +a fresh supply of flapjacks. +</p> +<p> +“If you have as good a time as the Scouts do +you’ll have fun, all right,” said Tom. “But I don’t +see how you can—just girls!” +</p> +<p> +Helen laughed, but his sister flew up. +</p> +<p> +“We can, and better, too,” she flashed. “Just you +wait and see!” +</p> +<p> +“Seeing’s believing,” said Tom mischievously, +passing his plate for the flapjacks as Winnie brought in +the heaping plate that had been keeping hot in the oven. +</p> +<p> +“That’s true,” said his father gravely, putting a pile +of buttered quarter-sections on his son’s plate. “At +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +least, nobody who hadn’t seen it would believe you could +eat so many flapjacks and not explode!” +</p> +<p> +Everyone laughed; but Tom calmly went on eating. +</p> +<p> +“They’re awfully good, mother,” he said. “I’ll +tell you, Winnie, if you could learn to make as good +flapjacks as mother with your Fire Camping, as Florence +calls it, you’d be doing something worth while.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t suppose there’s anything about flapjacks +in it—do you think there could be, Helen?” +asked Winnie. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam laughed a little. +</p> +<p> +“Well, do you know, my dears,” she said, “I have +a strange feeling that there <em>is!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see how,” doubted Winona. “But maybe, +if I get time, Tom, I’ll learn how to make them. Come +on, Helen, let’s go back to Nannie and ask her all the +questions we can think of.” +</p> +<p> +The two girls ran out hand-in-hand. +</p> +<p> +“Are there flapjacks in it, mother?” asked little +Florence. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam laughed again as she began to clear +the table. +</p> +<p> +“There are, and a great deal besides, or I’m much +mistaken, dear!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span>CHAPTER TWO</h2> +<p> +Within the next week Mrs. Bryan had sent for +and filled out and returned the application blanks, and +now the girls were merely waiting for the return of the +blanks and their charter. Meanwhile, out of school +hours, Winnie helped her mother about the house. +</p> +<p> +“I mayn’t have time for much housework when I +belong to the Camp Fire,” she thought, “and I’d better +do all I can now.” +</p> +<p> +So she learned a good deal about cooking, and +helped regularly with the dishes—and with the supper-getting +and tidying. Finally—it was almost the end +of May by then—the charter came, and material for the +ceremonial dresses, and various other things; and the +girls held their first Camp Fire. It was at Winnie’s +house, with its big fireplace, that they had it. Mrs. +Bryan invited two other girls to join, to make up +the number; Dorothy Gray and Adelaide Hughes. +Dorothy the girls all knew and liked—she was everybody’s +choice for one of the vacant places—but nobody +knew much about Adelaide, who was a newcomer in +town, except that she had no mother, and lived with her +father and her younger brother and little sister in one +of the few apartment-houses that were beginning to be +put up in the little town where the girls all lived. She +was a quiet, rather sullen girl, and she dressed badly—almost +untidily. The girls were surprised at her joining, +for she seemed to keep away from people almost +as if she did it on purpose. But Mrs. Bryan wanted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +her in, and the girls would any of them have done +anything for Mrs. Bryan. Only they confided to each +other that they hoped Adelaide wouldn’t spoil the fun. +</p> +<p> +As each girl came, the night of the first meeting, +she was taken, not into the living-room, but to a little +room beside it, and asked to wait there for the rest. +Edith Hillis was the last to come, and then they were +summoned into the other room. It was lighted only by +the blaze of the fire. +</p> +<p> +Helen explained things to the girls, as her step-mother +had explained to her. +</p> +<p> +“When the drum begins to beat we are to come in, +Indian file,” she reminded them, as a soft, measured +beat began to be heard in the next room. +</p> +<p> +Putting herself at the head of the line, she led the +seven girls into the room to the rhythmic beating. +They circled around it once, then sat down in a ring +about the fireplace, and looked at Mrs. Bryan with +admiration. +</p> +<p> +She had on a straight brownish gown, with deep +fringes at its bottom. She sat on the floor by a curious +drum, of a sort most of them had never even seen +pictures of. She was beating it softly, Indian fashion, +with her closed fist. +</p> +<p> +“Welcome,” she spoke clearly, rising as the girls +came to a halt around her. “Have you come desiring +to make a Camp Fire and tend it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” answered all the girls. It was then that +they dropped into their places, in a semi-circle around +the fire and their Guardian. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +Then each of the girls, in turn, rose and repeated +her wish to become a Camp Fire Girl, and follow the +Law of the Fire. When they had all finished Mrs. +Bryan leaned back in her corner, and talked to them +about the Law—what each of the seven parts of it +meant. +</p> +<p> +“Why—it covers everything!” said Winnie. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly does!” seconded Louise. “All I +have to do, it seems to me, is to go on living, and I’ll +acquire unnumbered honor beads.” +</p> +<p> +“You may think so,” Helen warned her, “but +you’ll find there’s plenty to learn about it. I’ve been +studying it out.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right!” said Louise airily. She +caught up the manual as she spoke, and ran her eye +down the list of honors by the firelight. “Wash and +iron a shirtwaist—I love to wash things. Make a bed +for two months—I’d be hung with beads if I had +one for every two months I’ve made my bed. Abstain +from gum, candy, ice-cream—oh, good gracious!” +</p> +<p> +“That counts as much as the rest,” said Winnie +mischievously, “and think how good it will be for +you!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get thin,” Louise remarked thoughtfully. +“What are you going to start with, Winnie?” +</p> +<p> +“Health-craft, I think.” Winona had taken the +book in her turn, and was looking through the pages. +“I’ve always wanted to learn horseback riding, and I +think perhaps father’ll let me, now it’s in a book as +something you ought to do.” Then she remembered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +what her brother had said about the flapjacks, and she +shook her head as she passed on the book. “No,” she +corrected herself, “I don’t believe that will be the first +thing I’ll do. I think I need home-craft quite as much +as I do learning to ride.” +</p> +<p> +“What about you, Helen?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Why, clay-modelling and brass-work, or things +like that,” was the prompt answer. “I want to take +up art-craft when I get older, and I might as well begin.” +</p> +<p> +“Can you clay-model in camp?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Just as well as you can make a shirtwaist,” replied +Helen, unruffled. +</p> +<p> +“I like the hand-crafts, too,” said Edith Hillis. “I +think I shall specialize on fancy-work.” +</p> +<p> +“Always a perfect lady!” teased Louise, who was +something of a tomboy, and frankly thought it was silly +of Edith to refuse to get her hair wet in the swimming-pool, +and wear veils for her complexion. +</p> +<p> +The other three girls, Marie Hunter and Dorothy +Gray and Adelaide Hughes, did not say what honors +they were going to work for. Everybody was pretty +sure that Marie was going to write a play, and Dorothy +did beautiful needle-work. But as for Adelaide, silent +in her place, nobody could guess. +</p> +<p> +“You mustn’t any of you forget that there’s sewing +to do, right now,” warned Mrs. Bryan. “And +I want all of you to look at my dress, because each of +you will have to make one like it.” +</p> +<p> +She stood up again, and they all examined the +straight khaki dress with its leather fringes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +</p> +<p> +“That won’t be especially hard to make,” concluded +Marie, who did most of her own sewing. “There’s a +pattern, isn’t there, Mrs. Bryan?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, and I have it. And there’s one more +thing, girls—two, rather. We must each choose a +name, and a symbol to go with the name. Then we +have to name the Camp Fire.” +</p> +<p> +“A name—how do you mean?” asked Winnie. +</p> +<p> +“I mean that, of course, our Camp Fire has to be +called something. Beside that, so does each Camp +Fire Girl. I like birds and bird-study, so I am going +to call myself ‘Opeechee,’ the Robin, and take a pair +of spread wings for my symbol. It’s to put on one’s +personal belongings like a crest—see? as I have it on +this pillow-top.” +</p> +<p> +The girls clustered around her to see the symbol, +stencilled on the pillow-cover on her lap. She told +them she was going to burn it on her shirtwaist box +as well, and showed them where she had woven it into +her headband, a gorgeous thing of brown and orange-red +beads. +</p> +<p> +“It would go on a paddle-blade, too,” said Helen +thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“It shall on mine to-morrow,” declared Marie. +“That is, if I’ve thought of a symbol by then,” she +added prudently. +</p> +<p> +“I think this new name idea is perfectly gorgeous!” +cried Louise enthusiastically. “I’ve always +hated my name—you’d expect a Louise to be tall and +severe and haughty—and look at <em>me!</em>” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +</p> +<p> +She jumped up in the firelight and spread out her +plump arms tragically. +</p> +<p> +“We see you!” nodded Helen calmly, and Louise +sat down again. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll be glad you have red hair when you’re +grown up,” consoled Edith. “It’s supposed to be very +beautiful.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it <em>isn’t</em>,” said Louise energetically, “with +people always asking after the white horse. I wonder +why red-haired girls and white horses are supposed to +go together?” +</p> +<p> +But nobody could tell her. They were all clustered +about Mrs. Bryan and the manual, choosing names, +and planning symbols, and you couldn’t hear yourself +think. Winnie and Helen and Mrs. Bryan had planned +to finish the evening by playing games, but all the girls +were so busy talking that it was impossible to get a +game in edgewise. +</p> +<p> +Presently Mrs. Merriam and little Florence came in +with cocoa and sandwiches. And then, at about ten-thirty, +the meeting broke up, after planning a bacon-bat +for the next Saturday. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Winnie Merriam sat, as she loved to sit, by the +dying fire. Her mother began to clear away the dishes, +but Winnie stopped her with: +</p> +<p> +“Please wait a little while, and talk to me, mother. +I haven’t had half enough sandwiches, and besides, the +nicest part of a party is talking it over afterwards.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said Mrs. Merriam, sitting down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +across from her daughter and helping herself to something +to eat. “I didn’t get much chance at the refreshments +either, I was so busy helping you serve them. +What was it you wanted to say particularly, dear?” +</p> +<p> +“I wanted to ask you about my name, mother. I +wasn’t christened ‘Winnie,’ was I?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, no, dear—you know that. You were christened +‘Winona,’ after your grandmother—only +somehow, we never called you that.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a real Indian name, isn’t it?” asked Winnie. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is,” her mother assured her. “Why, +dear, I’ve told you the story of it many a time.” +</p> +<p> +“Not for a long time now,” persuaded her daughter. +“I think I’ve forgotten some of it. Didn’t a +real Indian give it to grandmother?” +</p> +<p> +“The Indian didn’t exactly give it to her, it belonged +to the Indian’s baby.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, tell me the story!” urged Florence sleepily. +“I want to hear, too!” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam made room for Florence in her lap, +and went on above her with the sandwich and the story. +</p> +<p> +“Your great-grandfather was an Indian missionary, +and when he and your Great-grandmother Martin +went out to live among the Indians, they took with +them their little baby daughter, so young they had not +named her yet. Well, one day, while your grandmother +was sitting on the steps of the log house where +they lived with her baby on her lap, a squaw came along +with <em>her</em> baby. She had it strapped to her back, the +way they carry them, you know. She was a stranger, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +not one of the mission Indians, and oh, so tired and +ragged and dusty! +</p> +<p> +“Great-grandmother Martin couldn’t understand +her language, but she beckoned her into the house and +gave her food for herself and milk for the baby. And +then, by signs, she asked the baby’s name. And the +Indian woman said ‘Winona—papoose Winona—yes.’ +It seemed she could speak a very little English. +So then Great-grandmother Martin asked the woman +what the name meant—for all Indian names have meanings, +you know. But the woman hadn’t enough English +words to answer her. So she got up from the floor +where she had been sitting and took the bright steel +bread-knife that lay where great-grandmother had been +cutting bread for her. She held it in a ray of sunlight +that crossed the room, and shook it so the light flashed +and was reflected, bright and quivering, in the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘That Winona!’ she explained. +</p> +<p> +“After she was rested she wouldn’t stay. She +went on her travels, wherever she was going,—great-grandmother +never saw her again. But she didn’t forget +the name, and as soon as she could she asked the +Indian interpreter what ‘Winona’ really meant. He +told her that it was the name of another tribe for ‘ray +of light that sparkles,’ or ‘flashing ray of light.’ +</p> +<p> +“So Great-grandmother Martin named her own +little girl Winona. The name was pretty, and the +meaning was prettier still. And she grew up and married +Grandfather Merriam—and when you came we +named you for her.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +</p> +<p> +“Then it really is a sure-enough Indian name,” said +its owner. “And the meaning is lovely. ‘A ray of +flashing light’—you couldn’t ask to be anything better +than that, could you, mother? I believe if I can I shall +keep my own name for the Camp Fire. It is prettier +than anything I could make up or find.” +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is,” said her mother. +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t I have a Nindian name, too?” clamored +Florence aggrievedly, sitting up and rubbing her +eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Because your other grandmother didn’t,” said her +mother, kissing her. “One Indian maiden in a family +is enough. What names have the other girls chosen, +Winnie?” +</p> +<p> +Winona began to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Louise says she is going to call herself ‘Ishkoodah’—don’t +you remember, in Hiawatha, +‘Ishkoodah, the Comet—Ishkoodah, with fiery +tresses?’ she says she thinks she can make a lovely +symbol out of it. It’s funny, but Louise is always +doing funny things. I think she’s really in earnest +about this. And Helen says she’s going to call herself +‘Night-Star.’ We don’t know the Indian for that yet, +but we’re going to hunt it up at the library. She +thinks she will specialize on astronomy—learn what the +constellations are, you know. I’d like to do that, too. +All I know is the Big Dipper, and that the slanty W set +up sidewise is Cassiopea’s Chair. I learned that from +the little Storyland of Stars you gave me when I was +seven.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +</p> +<p> +“I want to know chairs, too,” said Florence +drowsily. +</p> +<p> +“All right, dear, you shall,” soothed Winona. Then +she went on talking to her mother. +</p> +<p> +“So all the girls said they’d take sky names, and +we decided to call our camp by the Indian name for the +sky, because we want to camp out as much as we can.” +</p> +<p> +“I think that is a good idea,” said Mrs. Merriam. +</p> +<p> +“It was mine,” said Winona. “But Mrs. Bryan +remembered an Indian name for it—Karonya. We’re +Camp Karonya—isn’t that pretty? And then Marie +remembered the Indian name for South-Wind, one of +them, Shawondassee, and took it. But the rest couldn’t +think of Indian names, so we waited to hunt some.” +</p> +<p> +“Do the names have to be Indian?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” Winnie answered sleepily, “but it’s +better.” +</p> +<p> +“Come!” said her mother, setting Florence, who +was fast asleep, on her feet. “We’d all better go to +bed, or we’ll be too sleepy to go to church to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“And the sooner I go to sleep the sooner next +Saturday will come, as you used to say when I was a +little girl,” added Winona. “Oh, I can scarcely wait +to find out what a bacon-bat really is on its native +heath—or anywhere, for that matter.” +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t they tell you what it was?” +</p> +<p> +“No—Marie is planning it, and she wouldn’t say, +except that it would be heaps of fun, and I was to +bring a dozen rolls and some salt and a jack-knife. +I’ll have to borrow Tom’s. Good-night, mother dear.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>CHAPTER THREE</h2> +<p> +“Have you got everything, Winnie?” asked Helen +anxiously, as they met half-way between Winnie’s gate +and Helen’s, about ten o’clock on Saturday morning. +</p> +<p> +“I think so,” answered Helen a little uncertainly. +“Marie told me to bring a pound of bacon—that’s all. +What are you bringing?” +</p> +<p> +“Two dozen humble, necessary rolls,” said Winnie, +“and salt. I had to buy a knife, because Tom lost +his yesterday. He loses it regularly, once a week.” +</p> +<p> +“Pity he picked out to-day,” commented Helen as +they fell into step. “Do you suppose we’ll be late?” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, no!” said Winnie, “We’re more likely +to be the first!” +</p> +<p> +“We won’t be”—and Helen laughed—“Louise is +always the earliest everywhere. She says she’s lost +more perfectly good time being punctual than any +other way she knows.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we’ll be ahead of Edith, anyway,” Winnie +remarked cheerfully. She adjusted the two dozen rolls +more easily, for that many rolls, when you have far to +carry them, have a way of feeling lumpy. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a good thing it isn’t far to the trolley!” said +Helen. “I didn’t know how nubbly this bacon was +going to be.” +</p> +<p> +“So are my rolls! Let’s trade,” suggested Winnie +brilliantly. +</p> +<p> +“Almost human intelligence!” gibed Helen; so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +they traded, and each found her load much more comfortable +than the one she’d had before—which says a +good deal for the powers of imagination. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t let’s sit up on the benches of that trolley-station—they’re +the most uncomfortable things in +town!” objected Winnie. “Come on, Helen. Let’s be +real sports, and sit on the grass.” +</p> +<p> +“I do believe we’re the first!” was Helen’s sole +reply, as she eyed the little trolley-station worriedly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we <em>can’t</em> be,” said Winnie confidently, “unless +Louise has died or gone West. If she’s in the land of +the living I know she’s here. Once I asked the crowd +over in the afternoon to make fudge, and she got there +just as I was in the middle of sweeping out the kitchen, +at one o’clock!” +</p> +<p> +“You never told me about that!” reminded Helen +interestedly. “What did you do?” +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed. “Do! I didn’t have to do anything. +Louise did the doing—she took the broom out +of my hands, and sent me flying upstairs to dress, and +did the sweeping herself! Oh, and there she is! +Lou-i-ise!” +</p> +<p> +“Here I am!” Louise answered placidly, rising up +in her white blouse from the very centre of the field +by the station, and looking, with the sun shining on her +brilliant hair, like a large white blossom with a red +centre. “I got here long ago. Come on over here +on the grass. It’s horrid on the benches, and I’m making +friends with the nicest little brown hoptoad.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ugh—no!” shuddered Helen, who did not care +for hoptoads. “Here’s Nannie, with Adelaide and +Dorothy.” +</p> +<p> +So the girls ran over to meet their Guardian, and +the hoptoad was averted. Just behind the newcomers +arrived Marie and Edith, Marie dignified and neat, as +usual, in her dark-blue sailor-suit, and Edith in a fluffy +pink dress that did not look as if it could stand much +strenuous picnicking. +</p> +<p> +“Did you bring the rolls, Winnie?” called Marie. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly I did, and Helen has the bacon.” +</p> +<p> +“And I have the hard-boiled eggs,” said Louise +gayly, “and here is the trolley—it sounds like a French +lesson. We mount the trolley that we may go to the +picnic. Come on, girls.” +</p> +<p> +The girls were bound for a little wood, five miles +out, where nearly everybody that went on picnics had +them. They sat down on a rear seat in a giggling row, +while Marie went ruthlessly on counting supplies. +</p> +<p> +“Adelaide, did you bring condensed cream? And +who was to bring cake—were you, Edith? Dorothy +has knives and forks and a kettle.” +</p> +<p> +“Cake?” from Edith blankly. “Why, no, Marie, +I brought eggs. I thought you said to—I thought we +were going to fry them with the bacon.” +</p> +<p> +A howl of laughter went up, in which Edith joined +in spite of herself. +</p> +<p> +“How did you think we’d do it, dear?” Mrs. +Bryan asked at last, trying to straighten her face. +</p> +<p> +“That’s easy,” promised Louise cheerfully. “You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +just peel the eggs carefully, throw away the shell, poke +the raw egg on the point of a stick, and toast it over the +fire till it’s all gone.” +</p> +<p> +Edith giggled. “Well, I don’t see how you could +expect me to get it straight over the ’phone, anyway. +If I’d known you expected me to bring a cake—I don’t +believe it was me you—ow!” +</p> +<p> +For a lurch of the car had sent the satchel in which +Dorothy had the knives and forks smashing against +the raw eggs they had been talking about; and as +Stevenson said of the cow when they asked him the +immortal question about the cow meeting the locomotive—it +was “so much the worse for the eggs.” They +broke promptly, and one fatal corner of the bag that +held them began to leak on Edith’s pretty pink dress. +</p> +<p> +Dorothy tried to repair damages with her handkerchief, +but there was a yellow smear on the front breadth, +for all they could do. As it proved afterwards, it was +poor Edith’s hoodoo day. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little eggs!” Louise lamented pensively. +“Nobody’s wasting any sympathy on them—and +they’re all broken up.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what an awful pun!” cried everybody; but +Louise went on. She lifted the limp bag gingerly, and +looked at it as if she was very sorry for it indeed. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s serenade the eggs, girls!” she said. “Just +follow me!” +</p> +<p> +And the people in the front seats of the trolley heard +a hearty chorus of young voices ringing out from the +two back seats: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +</p> +<p> + Good-bye, little eggs, good-bye—<br /> + Don’t cry, little eggs, don’t cry;<br /> + Although you break for our sweet sake<br /> + While we’re marching away upon a picnic—<br /> + Good-bye, little eggs, good-bye—<br /> + By and bye, little eggs, by and bye<br /> + We’ll be eating up our lunch, but we won’t have<br /> + you to crunch—<br /> + Good-bye, little eggs, good-bye!<br /> +</p> +<p> +The girls were in fits of laughter by the time they +had done singing Louise’s doggerel. +</p> +<p> +“And yet—it really is silly!” said Marie consideringly +when they were done. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t insult my beautiful, high-brow pome,” said +Louise cheerfully, hopping out of the trolley, for they +were at their journey’s end. “Who’s going to fetch +water? Don’t all speak at once.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get the water,” Edith promised, speaking +for herself and Marie. “It won’t be as hard on my poor +clothes as frying bacon.” +</p> +<p> +So the two of them took the kettle and started off. +</p> +<p> +The place the girls had chosen for their bacon-bat +was a little wood at the end of the trolley-line, which +possessed a spring, and an open, sheltered sort of ravine +where picnickers were wont to build their fires. The +girls sauntered along in ones and twos till they reached +this ravine, set down the things they carried, and scattered +to look for sticks. +</p> +<p> +Winnie and Helen, peacefully gathering wood as +they went, suddenly heard screams, and dropped their +wood and ran toward the sound. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s—it’s near the spring,” panted Winona to +Helen. “Oh, I do hope nobody’s fallen in!” +</p> +<p> +They arrived at the spring just as Adelaide Hughes +and Mrs. Bryan reached it from another direction. +</p> +<p> +Now the spring was not an untouched, wildwood +affair at all. The authorities had done things to it +which made its water a great deal better for drinking +purposes, but much less picturesque—and deeper. Its +bed had been widened and lined with concrete, and +barred across at intervals, whether to keep the earth +back or the concrete solid nobody but the Town Council +that had done it knew. And although falling between the +bars didn’t seem very easy even for a slim, small girl, +Edith seemed to have accomplished it. She was wedged +between two of the bars across the water, and what +was more, she had managed to drag Marie Hunter +down with her in her fall. Marie only had one foot +in the water, and she was struggling to get out, though +the force of the stream was making it hard for her, for +the pool was about four feet deep. But Edith, wedged +between the bars, was devoting her energies exclusively +to screaming for help. The reason was apparent when +the rescuing parties came closer. One arm was caught +down beside her, so that she could balance herself, but +not get out. Winona took one look at the situation. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get Edith out!” she called to Mrs. Bryan. +“Can you manage Marie?” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan was a slender, delicate-looking woman, +but she was stronger than Winona realized. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly!” she encouraged. And Helen and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +Winona began eagerly trying to extricate their friend. +</p> +<p> +It was impossible to reach Edith and take her free +hand to pull her out by—the bank each side the sluice, +or stream, or whatever you choose to call it, was too +deep. Winnie thought a minute. Then she took off the +long, strong blue silk scarf she wore in a big bow at +the neck of her blouse. +</p> +<p> +“Can I have yours, too, Helen?” And Helen +handed hers over promptly. Either alone was long +enough, but Winnie wanted the two to twist together, +for fear one would not bear Edith’s weight. +</p> +<p> +“Can you get around to the other side with your +end, Helen?” she said. +</p> +<p> +Helen scurried around up back of the source. Then +she and Winnie, each holding an end of the scarf-rope, +walked down either side of the stream till they were +parallel with Edith. They knelt down and lowered the +scarf till Edith could slip her free arm over it, and +pull herself up. With its aid as a brace, she managed +to free the caught arm, jammed against her side. +After that it was easy enough, and in a few minutes +she extricated herself entirely, and half dragged, +half pulled herself up the steep bank. By the time +the girls were done pulling her out she and they were +pretty well worn out, and they dropped on the grass, +Helen and Edith on one side and Winnie on the other, +and took time to find their lost breaths. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan and Marie came up to them now—getting +Marie out of the water had been a fairly easy +matter—and made the others get up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +</p> +<p> +“Edith and Marie must go straight and get off +their wet things!” the older woman advised. “And +Adelaide’s feet are wet, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Where had we better go?” asked Marie, calm +as ever, though nobody could have been much wetter +than she was up to her waist. +</p> +<p> +“Old Mary’s is the quickest place,” said Mrs. Bryan. +“Hurry, now—run, or you’ll catch cold. Adelaide +and I are coming, too.” +</p> +<p> +The whole party—for Winnie and Helen wanted to +see the finish—set off at a brisk trot for Old Mary’s. +</p> +<p> +Old Mary was an elderly Irishwoman who earned +her living mostly by taking in washing, but also by +selling ginger-ale, cookies and sandwiches to such picnics +and automobile parties as came her way. Her little +house was close to the picnic-woods. +</p> +<p> +“They’re sure of a good fire to change their things +by, that’s one comfort,” said Winnie to Helen as they +ran along in the rear of their dripping friends. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but——” Helen began to laugh. “What +are they going to change to?” she inquired. “We +didn’t any of us bring our trunks—it isn’t done on +picnics!” +</p> +<p> +“They’ll have to go to bed!” was Winnie’s solution, +and they both began to laugh again. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a shame, though, to have them miss all the +picnic,” said Winnie, sobering down. +</p> +<p> +But when they arrived on the scene they found +the victims hadn’t the least intention of going to bed. +</p> +<p> +“Sure, I’ll iron their bits of clothes dry,” said Old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +Mary, “an’ who’ll be the worse if they borry a few +clothes from me ironin’ horse till the others are dry? +The people that own ’em ’d never mind—I’ve an elegant +trade in the washin’ of clothes, an’ there’s plenty +to fit yez all on the horse.” +</p> +<p> +It was not half-past eleven yet, and the girls would +not be going home for some hours, so there would be +plenty of time for the things to dry. So Edith and +Marie accepted Old Mary’s offer on the spot. Among +the various family washes that she was doing were +some things of their own. They managed to pick out +enough dry clothing for all their needs—all but dresses. +There were shirtwaists and blouses galore, but it was +too early for many wash-skirts to be going to the +laundress. +</p> +<p> +However, there was an ample red cotton wrapper, +the property of Mary herself, which at least covered +Marie. But Edith was little, and there was nothing +which came near fitting her but an expensively trimmed +white organdy party-dress, which Mary said frankly +she did not feel she could lend. +</p> +<p> +“What shall I do?” asked Edith in desperation. +“I can’t sit here all day till my dress dries!” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno, darlin’. Sure ’tis too bad. Wait a minute, +though.” She hurried out of the room, and presently +returned waving something blue. “If ye wouldn’t +mind these overalls, now,” she said, “they’re just +washed an’ ironed for little James Dempsey to wear. +An’ the beauty of overalls is they fit anybody.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Overalls!</em>” said Edith mournfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +</p> +<p> +But overalls were better than a day in bed, and the +end of it was, that out of Old Mary’s hospitable cottage +walked a tall Irishwoman with two long braids +over her trailing red wrapper, and a small Irishman +with yellow curls over very baggy and much turned-up +overalls, instead of neat Marie and fluffy Edith. They +and Adelaide had put on dry stockings, and had many +thicknesses of newspaper on their shoes till they could +get to the fire to dry them. +</p> +<p> +“Good-mornin’!” said Marie cheerfully to her +astonished friends, as she sailed majestically up to the +freshly-made fire. +</p> +<p> +“Sure we’re the world-renowned vaudeville team, +Hunter an’ Hillis.” +</p> +<p> +“Just back from doing their justly-famous diving +stunt!” added Winnie. “Better come near the fire, +girls, and try to get your shoes dry.” +</p> +<p> +The fire, which the rest had made during the +“diving-stunt,” was burning beautifully. The girls laid +down waterproofs and blankets, and disposed themselves +comfortably around it, for the fire-makers were +tired, and the rescuers and rescued were particularly +glad to lie down and be warm and dry and limp. +</p> +<p> +“Two long hours to dinner-time!” from Winnie +presently in a very sad voice. “I don’t feel as if I +could stand it.” +</p> +<p> +“Nor I!” several voices chimed in. +</p> +<p> +“Then why do you?” suggested Mrs. Bryan sensibly. +“If everybody’s hungry we might as well have +dinner now!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> +<p> +At the mention of dinner everybody became energetic +as by magic. Winnie split her two dozen rolls +neatly down the middle, and set them in rows on a +newspaper, ready for the broiled bacon. Marie, with +her red wrapper pinned up out of harm’s way, banked +the fire, while Edith mixed cocoa and condensed milk +industriously in the bottom of a gigantic kettle which +was discovered, too late, to have been intended to boil +the water in. It occurred to Winnie that Edith in +overalls was much more fun than Edith in fluffy ruffles +that she had to remember to take care of, as she watched +her flying around with her curls waving in the wind, +looking like a stage newsboy. Helen, on her knees by +the heap of provisions, was unwrapping her bacon, and +somebody else was peeling all the hard-boiled eggs. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t anybody bring cake?” asked Louise plaintively. +“Have we nothing but rolls, bacon and eggs?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what else do you want?” asked Marie with +a dignity rather interfered with by the way her scarlet +draperies flapped in the breeze. “All the bacon-bats +I ever heard about they just had rolls and bacon—we +have a lot of things extra.” +</p> +<p> +“Glad I never attended one of the just-rolls-and-bacon +kind,” Louise rebelliously declared. +</p> +<p> +Winnie, who liked cake herself, and thought she had +seen some, went back to the heap of provisions and +began to dig at it like a small dog at a mole-hill. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +</p> +<p> +“Marie!” she called triumphantly in a minute, +“There <em>is</em> cake! And a lot of bananas!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s good,” Marie serenely remarked. “Bring +them along.” +</p> +<p> +Winnie reappeared in a minute, very flushed and +triumphant, with a hand of bananas under her arm, and +a huge chocolate cake, with almost undamaged icing, +poised carefully before her. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I remember!” said absent-minded Dorothy, +“I brought that cake. It was in the satchel with the +knives and forks.” +</p> +<p> +“You certainly saved all our lives,” said Louise +feelingly, and went on whittling toasting-sticks for the +bacon. “Here, Winnie, take a stick and start in to be +useful.” +</p> +<p> +“How do you do it?” Winnie wondered—“cook +bacon, I mean? I never did it this way before.” +</p> +<p> +“Just string it on the stick any way at all,” Marie +advised, and speared a slice scientifically as she spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Easy when you know how!” laughed Winnie, +sharpening her own stick a little more and threading +some bacon on it. +</p> +<p> +In a few minutes everybody had slices of bacon +frizzling gayly, and getting more or less charred. +When they were done enough they were popped between +the opened rolls, and—eaten, cinders and all. +The water, though it was boiled in something else than +its own proper kettle—something remarkably like a +dish-pan cunningly slung over the fire by a wonderful +system of forked sticks—came to a boil without accident, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +and was poured on the cocoa. Each girl had +brought her own drinking-cup, so there was no difficulty +about crockery. It seemed to Winnie, balanced on +one elbow on her rug, that nothing had ever tasted +so good as the bacon sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, +washed down by all the hot cocoa you could drink. +</p> +<p> +By the time the cake and bananas came the girls +felt as if they couldn’t eat another thing. But they +did. It was delightful lying around the fire talking +and eating and laughing. It was one of those mild +days which come in May sometimes, bright, with a little +breeze. After awhile somebody started a Camp Fire +song, and one by one they all joined in. After that +they lay quiet for awhile, talking and being lazy. +</p> +<p> +When they began to clear away Edith declared that +she didn’t dare go near the spring again. So it was +Winona and Louise who took the few things there +were to wash, the cocoa-kettle and dish-pan and drinking-cups +and the silver, over to the spring. It was pleasant, +lazy work, not a bit like home dish-washing. Louise +splashed the things up and down in the running water, +and Winona dried them. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it nice?” sighed Winnie. “Oh, I do wish +we could camp outdoors all this summer, instead of +living in hot houses! Don’t you always hate to sleep +indoors when it’s hot?” +</p> +<p> +Louise rolled over on her back and looked at the sky. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I think I do,” she spoke thoughtfully. “You +have to, though. Out in California they say everybody +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +has sleeping-porches, and never thinks of going inside +at night. I wish people had them here.” +</p> +<p> +A brilliant idea came to Winona—which, by the +way, she afterward carried out. “Our side-porch is +almost all screened. I wonder if mother wouldn’t let +me sleep there? I’m going to ask her, anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“I wish I could, too,” breathed Louise, “but our +side-porch is where everybody goes by—that’s the worst +of living on a corner. I know I never could break the +milkman and the baker of contributing rolls and milk +on top of me in the early morning!” +</p> +<p> +“What a splendid idea! Then you could have +‘breakfast in your bed,’ like Harry Lauder,” said +Winnie, and both girls stopped to giggle. “But +honestly,” began Winnie again, as she reached out for +some long grass near her and began to plait it, “don’t +you think we can all camp out this summer?” +</p> +<p> +“Here?” +</p> +<p> +“N-no, not here—at least, I don’t believe they’d let +us, the people who own it, I mean. But there must be +somewhere that we could go, somewhere not too far +off to cost a lot to get there.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder!” said Louise, pulling a thick red pig-tail +around in order to nibble its end thoughtfully. She +had a habit of gnawing at her hair when she thought +hard. “What about Cribb’s Creek?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s too near,” Winnie opposed. +</p> +<p> +“Well, where did the Boy Scouts go last year?” +</p> +<p> +“Up on Wampoag River, a little way below Wampoag,” +said Winona. “They said it was a cinch, because they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +could sell all the fish they caught to the +Wampoag hotel-keepers, and get things they needed, +and yet it was just as wild as it could be if you went +a little way along the river.” +</p> +<p> +Wampoag was a summer resort not far from them. +</p> +<p> +“Well, how far’s that?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“About ten miles to the boys’ camp,” answered +Winona. “But there would be plenty of good camping-ground +nearer home, and quite close to that little +village—what’s its name?” +</p> +<p> +“Green’s Corners,” supplied Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder who Green was, and if he really <em>did</em> +have corners,” Winona thoughtfully remarked. +</p> +<p> +Louise giggled. “He was a square man, I suppose,” +she said, and Winnie gave her a shove. “Oh, don’t!” +she said. “That’s an awful pun.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought it was a very good one. Well, to +come back to business, the boys didn’t go by train. +Indeed, I don’t think you can, unless you go away +round. They hiked.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, why shouldn’t we, too?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Or part of the way, anyway!” added Winnie, +</p> +<p> +“People would take us for a band of ‘I won’t +works!’ We’d look it, too, by the time we got to the +end of the journey.” +</p> +<p> +“But we needn’t do it all at once,” said Winnie. +“We could break the journey overnight. Don’t you +know, people in England have walking-tours that last +for days and days? I’ve read about it. They stop in +inns overnight and have adventures.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’d like the adventures, if they didn’t mean +falling into ponds and getting your clothes wet,” said +Louise. +</p> +<p> +Winnie yawned. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose they think we’ve tied the cups round +our necks and jumped in,” and she lazily started to +get up. “Come on, Louise, let’s find Mrs. Bryan and +ask her about camping. She’s sure to know about +hikes and everything.” +</p> +<p> +Finding Mrs. Bryan proved to be hard, because she +was not in the kind of a place where you would expect +to find a grown-up step-mother. They finally discovered +her by a flutter of blue skirt that hung down below +the branches of an old apple-tree. She was sitting +comfortably in one of its crotches, trying to carve +herself a willow whistle. +</p> +<p> +“Come on up, girls!” she hailed them cheerfully. +“There’s always room at the top!” +</p> +<p> +“Where are the rest of them?” asked Winnie, +beginning to climb. Louise followed more slowly, for +Winnie was more slender and quicker in her movements. +</p> +<p> +“Scattered all over, I suppose,” said Mrs. Bryan. +“Edith went back to old Mary’s to see if her clothes +were dry. Did you want them for anything special?” +</p> +<p> +“No indeed,” Winnie assured her. “It was you +we wanted for something special.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m here,” and Mrs. Bryan dropped an +affectionate hand on the pretty brown head beneath +her. “What is it, dear?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s about camping out,” spoke Winnie and Louise +in a breath. “Do you think we can do it?” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan laughed. +</p> +<p> +“‘Can we do it?’ Why, my dears, that’s just +what we’re for! What would be the fun of belonging +to a Camp Fire if we couldn’t go camping outdoors?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, lovely!” cried Winnie. “Then you’ll go, too?” +</p> +<p> +“I certainly will!” said Mrs. Bryan promptly. “It +would have to be when Mr. Bryan was having his vacation, +though, because it would never do to leave, not +only my own hearth-fire, but my own poor helpless +husband, untended. And, of course, it will not be till +school is through.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, oh, it begins to sound almost real!” Winnie +cried with a joyous little jounce that shook several pink +blossoms from the tree. +</p> +<p> +“Just wait!” warned Louise from her lower limb. +“When we start that twenty-five-mile hike, it will seem +quite too real for comfort, take my word for it!” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you think we could hike to camp?” appealed +Winnie. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll have to practise shorter hikes first,” was the +answer. “If you do that there’s no reason why we +couldn’t all walk the distance. I suppose we’ll camp +somewhere on the Wampoag River.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that’s what we thought,” said the girls. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, we’d have to break the journey,” +Winnie went on. +</p> +<p> +“Well, yes, I think so,” Mrs. Bryan answered. +“Oh, here are Helen and Marie now. Oh, Helen! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +We’re up in this tree! No, don’t come up—all the +seats are full!” +</p> +<p> +“Then come down!” called Helen. “We have +something to show you.” +</p> +<p> +The something proved to be a small and very scared +garter-snake, that Helen was carrying in a forked stick. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little snakelet!” said Louise. “Do let him +go home, Helen—I’m sure he’s not grown-up yet.” +</p> +<p> +So Helen put down the snake and off he went. +</p> +<p> +“Did you find your clothes?” Louise asked Marie +rather superfluously, for she had on her sailor-suit, +rather fresher-looking than it had been before. +</p> +<p> +“It was all done when we got there,” said Marie, +“but Edith’s dress was harder to do—all those ruffles, +you know—so Mary’s still ironing it.” +</p> +<p> +“Then we’d better sit here and wait for her,” suggested +Louise. “And oh, girls, we have a plan.” +</p> +<p> +“A real plan, all hand-made?” mocked Helen. +“Do tell us about it.” +</p> +<p> +So then the camping-trip was discussed and votes +taken about it. Helen, of course, could go. Marie was +sure she would be allowed to. +</p> +<p> +“Mother says I stay in the house and read too much +anyway,” she said. +</p> +<p> +The other girls, drifting up one by one, were all +wild over the idea. Edith, in her freshly-laundered +frock, was a little doubtful about the hike, but as she +said, if she fainted from exhaustion she could take a +train or a carriage or something the rest of the way. +</p> +<p> +They talked camping till it was time to go back and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +pack up things for the return trip. So the girls rose +up from around the apple-tree, and stowed everything +away in the baskets and satchels they had brought, and +walked back to the trolley. First, though, they gave +old Mary all the provisions they had left; cocoa, six +rolls, and a generous half of the chocolate cake. +</p> +<p> +“That certainly was a life-sized cake!” breathed +Winnie as she set it on Mary’s kitchen table. “But it +won’t be as hard to eat as it was to carry, will it?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure ye needn’t worry but what it’ll get et,” +laughed Mary. “Many thanks, an’ good luck to yez all.” +</p> +<p> +They piled into the trolley, rather sleepy with the +long day in the wind, and, except for Marie and Edith, +rather crumpled. Winnie’s blouse had a grass-stain, +and Louise’s was marked neatly across the back, like +a Japanese stencil, with a wet brown bough-mark. +There were also burrs, more or less, on everybody. +But what were burrs? +</p> +<p> +Everybody heaved a sight of contentment as they +settled down in their seats. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly was a lovely picnic!” they said. +</p> +<p> +“How beautifully fresh and clean Edith Hillis +keeps her dresses!” said Mrs. Merriam to Winnie, as +Edith turned to wave good-bye at the Merriam gate, +and went down the street with Marie and Helen. +“You’d think that pink dress had just been washed +and ironed, and yet she’s been out in the woods with +the rest of you tousled-looking children all day!” +</p> +<p> +And Winona laughed so that it was at least two +minutes before she could explain. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> +<p> +“I’d advise you girls to hurry up with those squaw +dresses,” hinted Tom Merriam darkly, as he fled +through the sitting-room on his way back from Scout-practice. +</p> +<p> +Winnie looked up. She and Helen and Louise were +sitting in a row on the window-seat, sewing for dear +life on their ceremonial gowns. +</p> +<p> +“We are hurrying all we can,” she smiled. “These +have to be done by to-night anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“They are, nearly,” chimed in Louise, shaking out +her garment and observing its fringes with satisfaction. +“What’s he talking about, Win?” +</p> +<p> +“Tommy! Tom! Come back and tell us!” called +his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t!” shouted Tom down the stairs. “You’ll +find out in time—you’re going to need ’em, that’s all!” +</p> +<p> +“What on earth do you suppose he means?” wondered +Helen, as the last glimpse of Tom’s khaki-clad +form vanished up the stairs. +</p> +<p> +Winnie laughed as she finished off a seam. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe it meant anything,” she said. +“Tom’s always trying to get up excitements.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>I</em> think it means something!” said Louise, beginning +to take out bastings. She was the best seamstress +of the three, and consequently was done first. “Here, +Helen, let me finish that sleeve for you while you do +the other one.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +</p> +<p> +She took up the sleeve, and jumped up and began +to dance with the sleeve for a partner. +</p> +<p> + Something’s goin’ to happen, honey,<br /> + Happen, honey, happen mighty soon!<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, thank you!” said Helen gratefully, referring +not to the song and dance, but to the aid. +She hated sewing, and nothing but the Camp Fire +requirements would ever have made her persevere till +her gown was done. Winnie did not mind sewing one +way or the other, and by a queer contradiction harum-scarum +Louise loved it. +</p> +<p> +The girls worked on, and discussed on. Winnie was +sure Tom meant nothing, and the others were just as +sure that he had some reason for saying what he had. +</p> +<p> +That night the girls were to hold their first Council +Fire. That was why they were hurrying so to finish +their dresses. +</p> +<p> +When it came Winnie’s turn to answer the roll-call, +she rose, slim and graceful in her khaki dress, +before her turn was reached. +</p> +<p> +“Opeechee, Guardian of the Fire, may I speak +before my turn comes to answer to my name?” she +asked. +</p> +<p> +“Speak,” said Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +“Opeechee, I do not want to change my name. +May I not be known in the Camp Fire as Winona? +The name is one that an Indian gave one of my own +people many circles of moons ago, and it is mine by +inheritance.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“Will you tell the Camp Fire about it?” asked +Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +So Winnie told the Camp Fire the story her mother +had told her, of the weary Indian woman her grandmother +had helped, and whose papoose had been called +“Winona,” “Flashing Ray of Light.” +</p> +<p> +“Could anything be better than to be a ray of light +in dark places?” asked Winona. “I like the meaning +of my name, and if the Camp Fire will let me keep it +I promise to be a brightness wherever I can, always, +that will light the dark places for people who need it.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you say, Daughters of the Camp Fire?” +asked Mrs. Bryan when Winona was done. +</p> +<p> +“If we all have different Camp Fire names, won’t +it seem strange for Winona to have the same name +straight through?” objected Marie. “It is a beautiful +name with a beautiful meaning, if it weren’t that it is +her every-day name.” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody ever calls me anything but Winnie,” said +Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Why not use the translation?” suggested Helen. +“‘Ray of Light’ is pretty. And then Winnie could +keep the meaning.” +</p> +<p> +“You have spoken well!” said Mrs. Bryan. “What +do you say to that, Daughters of the Camp Fire?” +</p> +<p> +“Good!” from all the girls. +</p> +<p> +“Kolah, Ray of Light!” spoke Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +Then she went on with the business of the evening. +</p> +<p> +“Two of our Camp Fire Girls are to become Wood-gatherers +to-night. Will they rise?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +</p> +<p> +Winona and Marie had qualified, and they stood up. +</p> +<p> +“Ray of Light,” Mrs. Bryan went on, “will you +tell us how you chose your name?” +</p> +<p> +“‘Flashing Ray of Light’ is the name my fathers +gave me,” clearly spoke Winona, “and I have told the +Camp Fire the reason of its choosing. But I keep it +because I intend to carry out its meaning. I have tried +to earn my right to it by being bright, and helping +all I could, no matter how dark the days were, nor +how much nicer it would have been to be cross. As +my symbol I have chosen the firefly, because it lights +dark places.” +</p> +<p> +“Flashing Ray of Light brings brightness to our +Camp Fire,” said the Guardian. “We welcome you to +your place in our Camp Fire Circle.” +</p> +<p> +She gave Winona her pretty silver ring with its +raying fagots, and repeating the formula which went +with it. +</p> +<p> +When the girls had welcomed her rank and sung +her a cheer, Winona sat down, she hoped, for the last +time. +</p> +<p> +“How does it feel?” whispered Louise, who sat +next her. “I wish I’d collected my requirements as +quickly.” +</p> +<p> +“It feels partly awfully proud and partly awfully +relieved,” Winona whispered back. “And I feel as if +I oughtn’t to have picked out such awfully easy honors +to take. Anybody could make a shirtwaist and know +about their ancestors and trim a hat——” +</p> +<p> +“No, they couldn’t!” contradicted Louise, who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +admired Winona very much. “You just happen to be +cleverer than the rest of us, that’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m <em>not!</em>” said Winona as vehemently as it could +be said in a whisper. “Marie’s getting her Wood-gatherer’s +ring to-night, too.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan’s voice rose again in the same formula. +</p> +<p> +“Shawondassee, tell us how you chose your name.” +</p> +<p> +“Shawondassee means ‘South Wind,’” answered +Marie’s steady voice. “I chose the name because the +South Wind coaxes instead of scolding, and I thought +it was a good name to remind me to do the same thing. +As my symbol I have chosen the willow shoots, because +they come up year after year, no matter how often they +are cut down, and I wish to have their perseverance.” +</p> +<p> +“Perseverance and cheerfulness!” whispered +Louise. “Who would have thought Marie needed +either of them?” +</p> +<p> +“You can’t tell much about Marie, because you +never can get to her to talk about herself,” answered +Winona. “But she certainly is one of the hardest +workers in the class at school.” +</p> +<p> +At this point the girls had to stop talking, to join +in the Wood-gatherer’s verses for Marie. +</p> +<p> +Nearly all Marie’s required honors were Patriotism, +for she was the student of the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“It fairly makes me shiver to think how much that +girl knows,” whispered Louise. “My honors are going +to be plain home-craft—making pies and chaperoning +ice-chests and massaging floors, and so forth.” +</p> +<p> +“Will your mother let you?” asked Winona; for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +Mrs. Lane kept two maids, having the money to do it, +and a big family. +</p> +<p> +“Let me!” exploded Louise. “She’ll weep tears +of joy if there’s any prospect of my getting thinner!” +</p> +<p> +Just as Louise spoke there fell one of those uncanny +silences which have a way of occurring at the worst +possible times. Louise’s statement pealed cheerfully +through the room, and poor Louise, blushing scarlet, +tried to make herself very small—a hard matter. +</p> +<p> +The girls could not help laughing, but Mrs. Bryan +had mercy on her embarrassment, and went on with the +awarding of the honor beads each girl had won since +the last meeting. Winona’s were rather various—a +few from each class. Helen’s were nearly all hand-craft—stencilling +and clay-modelling. She had brought +along a bureau-scarf she had done, to show, and a +beautiful little bowl she had modelled and painted and +fired. Louise had only three beads so far, one for identifying +birds, one for preserving, and one for making +her ceremonial dress. +</p> +<p> +Edith Hillis, to everybody’s surprise, was given an +honor for folk-dancing, and proceeded, when she was +asked, to get up and demonstrate. This held up the +regular course of the meeting for quite a little while, +because when she showed them the Highland Fling all +the girls wanted to learn it. So for at least a half-hour +they practised it, till the floor over Mr. Bryan’s head, +in his study beneath, must have seemed to be coming +down. +</p> +<p> +After they had all tired themselves thoroughly they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +sang for awhile. About midway of the second song +Mrs. Bryan evidently remembered something, for she +gave a start as if she were going to speak. As soon as +they had finished she raised her hand for silence, and +said: +</p> +<p> +“I have a message for Camp Karonya. It should +be delivered at the business meeting, I suppose, but—it +won’t keep till then. The Boy Scouts, Camp No. Six, +of this town, invite the Camp Fire Girls to a dance +given by them in the school-house assembly-room next +Wednesday night.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how perfectly lovely!” cried Edith. “Of +course we’ll go!” +</p> +<p> +A confused noise of voices broke out, all speaking +at once. You could catch an occasional word—“blue +messaline,” “white organdy,” “orchestra,” “how perfectly +dandy!”—but for the most part it was just a +noise. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan waited placidly till it had quieted down. +</p> +<p> +“What is your pleasure in this matter, Daughters +of the Camp Fire?” she asked then. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we’ll go!” cried everybody at once. +</p> +<p> +“Then you’d better instruct the Secretary to write +them to that effect,” suggested Mrs. Bryan gravely, for +the tumult seemed inclined to break out again. +</p> +<p> +Winona jumped up and put it in the form of a +motion that the Secretary should reply, and actually +induced the girls to second and ratify it. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll write the acceptance right away!” declared +Helen with enthusiasm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +</p> +<p> +She went into the next room, got paper and ink, +came back, sat down in the middle of a ring of interested +suggesters, and wrote a very pleased acceptance. +</p> +<p> +Winona, robbed of her usual confidante, turned +to the girl on her other side, to talk clothes. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to wear my blue organdy, with the +Dresden sash and hair-ribbons,” she said without looking +to see to whom she was talking. +</p> +<p> +“Are you?” said the other girl, hesitating a little. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked at her, at the sound of her voice. +She had thought she was speaking to Louise. But +Louise was on the other side of the room, and the +girl next her was Adelaide Hughes, one of the two +girls Mrs. Bryan had brought into their Camp Fire. +</p> +<p> +It was two months now since Winona and Adelaide +had begun to meet each other weekly at the Camp Fire +good times and Ceremonials, but when you have all +the bosom friends you want it is hard to see such a +very great deal of other people. Winona realized now +that she had scarcely exchanged two consecutive sentences +with Adelaide all the time she had known her. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide was a thin, tired-looking girl of about +thirteen, with big blue eyes and a sensitive mouth, and +hair that had curious yellow and brown lights. She +did not join very heartily, ever, in the frolics, but she +seemed to enjoy everything with a sort of shy, watching +intensity. +</p> +<p> +“And what are you going to wear?” Winona asked, +more out of friendliness than curiosity. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide colored. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +“I—I don’t know,” she said. “I—a white dress, +I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Voile?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“No, lawn—if I come. But maybe I won’t be +there.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what a shame!” said Winona with the +bright friendliness that was a part of her. “Of course +you must be there. Helen accepted for all of us.” +</p> +<p> +“I know, but—but maybe I can’t come,” repeated +Adelaide. +</p> +<p> +“Of course you can!” insisted Winona. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her +head. +</p> +<p> +Winona slipped one arm around her. The two +girls were sitting a little apart from the rest by now, +in a dusky corner. +</p> +<p> +“There’s some reason why you think you can’t, +some horrid reason,” she coaxed. “Now, just tell +Winona what it is.” She spoke as if she were petting +her own younger sister, though Adelaide was only a +year younger than she was. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide’s eyes overflowed, and she felt gropingly +for her handkerchief, to dry her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s one,” whispered Winona, slipping her own +into Adelaide’s hand. “Now, tell me, dear. It isn’t +very bad, is it? Maybe I could help.” +</p> +<p> +“You <em>can’t!</em>” said Adelaide fiercely, “and I won’t +tell you a thing unless you promise not to.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Winona cheerfully, “I promise.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +</p> +<p> +“I—I haven’t any party dress, and father can’t +afford to get me one,” choked Adelaide, “and all I have +is an old white lawn I wear afternoons, and it’s <em>horrid</em>. +And—and, Winona Merriam, if you offer to loan me +a dress I’ll never speak to you again!” +</p> +<p> +“I wasn’t going to,” comforted Winona, stroking +poor sobbing Adelaide’s shoulder, while her own quick, +friendly mind cast about for a way out. +</p> +<p> +For Adelaide must come to the dance, and evidently +she wouldn’t borrow anything from anybody. +</p> +<p> +“Not borrow—how queer!” said Winona, voicing +her thought. “Why, I don’t know any of the girls +I wouldn’t borrow from, if I needed to, or they from +me. Don’t you ever borrow anything, Adelaide—except +trouble?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I don’t,” said Adelaide chokily but proudly. +“It’s—it’s different when you <em>have</em> to!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see why!” said sunny, friendly-hearted +Winona, who always took it for granted that she +liked people, and of course that they would like her! +She had never known what it was to be rich, but never +either what it was to be painfully poor. “Well, let’s +think of some other way. I suppose you haven’t time +to earn the money for a dress for this party. Opeechee +was telling us last week that we ought to try to earn so +much money apiece, and that there were lots of ways +for doing it.” +</p> +<p> +“No, there wouldn’t be time,” answered Adelaide +mournfully; but she stopped crying and began to look +interested. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span>CHAPTER SIX</h2> +<p> +The two girls sat and thought hard for a moment; +then Winnie suddenly thought of something. +</p> +<p> +“Just a minute, Adelaide!” she whispered, and she +went over to the corner where Mrs. Bryan and Marie +Hunter were discussing business together. The rest +were still all talking dance excitedly by the fireplace. +</p> +<p> +“Opeechee,” she said, “may I ask you something? +Would there be any reason why the girls couldn’t wear +their ceremonial dresses to the dance?” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan thought for a moment. +</p> +<p> +“There’s no actual reason why we shouldn’t,” she +said. “Only the idea is that the dresses should be kept +for rather intimate and private things.” +</p> +<p> +“But it would be such a good idea if we wore +them,” insisted Winona eagerly. “You see, perhaps—perhaps +some of us mightn’t be able to afford new party +dresses, and maybe we mightn’t have any old good ones, +either.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Winnie, you have that blue——” began +Marie, and checked herself as she saw a light. +</p> +<p> +“Some of us mightn’t have any new party dresses,” +repeated Winona obstinately, but with an appealing +look at Mrs. Bryan. She did so hope she would understand! +“Anyway, the boys expect us to,” she went +on eagerly. “Tom said this afternoon that we’d better +get the dresses ready, only we didn’t know then what +he meant.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan looked at Winona’s vivid, earnest face, +and—understood. +</p> +<p> +“I think you are quite right, Ray of Light. I’ll +speak to the girls.” +</p> +<p> +She stood up and struck lightly on the little Indian +drum to call the girls’ attention. +</p> +<p> +“Girls!” she said, “as the dance that the Scouts +have asked us to is an affair to which we have been +invited as an official body, it seems to me that it would +be only courteous for us to wear our ceremonial gowns. +So I am going to ask that you all do it.” +</p> +<p> +There was a murmur of approval all over the room. +When you have just acquired a beautiful new costume +it’s human nature to want to wear it early and often. +There was only a plaintive wail, which Marie suppressed, +from Edith Hillis: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my lovely new green messaline!” +</p> +<p> +Winona crossed over to the place where Adelaide +still sat. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” she said triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +“Did you tell Mrs. Bryan anything about me?” +Adelaide demanded suspiciously. +</p> +<p> +“No, I didn’t,” replied Winona rather indignantly. +“What do you take me for, when I said I wouldn’t?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I didn’t know,” apologized Adelaide. “And—thank +you, ever so much, Winona! You—you don’t +<em>know!</em>” +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes, I do. At least, I’ve often wanted new +clothes when I couldn’t have them. But mother says +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +if you can’t the next best thing is to go on wearing +what you have, and be so cheerful nobody has time to +think what you have on!” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody ever told me that,” pondered Adelaide, +as if it were an entirely new idea to her. “But my +mother’s dead, you see. And, anyway, it doesn’t sound +as if it could be true. Did you ever try it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” Winona said, and laughed. “I did—it +was funny, too. I was visiting some cousins of mine. +I hadn’t expected to stay, and I hadn’t brought a single +party thing, and none of their clothes would fit me. +They had perfectly lovely dresses. And suddenly we +were all invited to a party, and I had nothing but a +blue linen; and all the rest of them in the fluffiest +clothes you ever saw!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Adelaide, “didn’t it feel <em>horrid</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it did for awhile,” owned Winona. “But +everybody was sitting around as stiff as stiff—you +know, some parties are like that at first. And somebody +just had to say something. And pretty soon I thought +of a game that just fitted in, and asked them to play it. +After that I was so busy thinking up games that I +never remembered a thing I had on till we got home +that night. And I only did then because my cousin +Ethel said, ‘Oh, I’ve torn my dress!’ and I said it +was queer I hadn’t torn mine, too—and then I remembered +that it was linen and wouldn’t tear. We certainly +had a good time at that party!” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide looked at Winona’s shining eyes and +flushed cheeks enviously. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, you could do that,” she said, “and people +would be so busy watching you that they wouldn’t know +whether you had a flour-sack on or a satin. But I can’t, +because I keep worrying all the time about what people +think of me.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I should think that <em>would</em> be horrid,” Winona +sympathized. +</p> +<p> +“It is,” said Adelaide, “only I——” +</p> +<p> +The rest that Adelaide had been going to say was +drowned, because just then came the signal for the +closing song, and soon the Council Fire was over. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +“What on earth were you talking to Adelaide +Hughes so long about?” demanded Louise curiously as +they walked home, for their ways lay together. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, just things,” was Winona’s answer. “I +think she’s awfully shy, and a little afraid of the rest +of us, Lou.” +</p> +<p> +“And you think we ought to make a special fuss +over her?” said Louise mournfully. “I knew that was +coming. Well, I suppose we will—Helen and I always +do what you tell us to. I wish I were shy, and people +ran around saying, ‘we really must make an effort to +draw poor little timid Louise out!’” +</p> +<p> +Winona burst out laughing—the idea of “poor, +little, timid Louise” was so irresistibly funny. +</p> +<p> +“It’s going to be a gorgeous dance, though.” +Louise went on. “Wasn’t it splendid of the Scouts to +think of doing it? And what about my being right?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +</p> +<p> +“You certainly were right,” Winona admitted. +“Are you sure you don’t mind going on alone?” +</p> +<p> +For they had reached the Merriam house. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit,” said Louise cheerfully. “It’s only a +block, anyway. Good-night, honey.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +“Oh, it’s lovely!” exclaimed Winona next morning +when she ran downstairs. She flung herself on Tom +bodily and hugged him hard as she spoke. +</p> +<p> +“What’s lovely?” asked Tom, detaching himself, +or trying to. “Go easy, Winnie; it was just sheer luck +that you didn’t break any ribs or my collar-bone or +something. Affection’s all right in its place, but——” +</p> +<p> +“But its place isn’t on you, you mean?” retorted +Winona, unwinding herself cheerfully from her +brother. “Why, I mean the dance, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that!” said Tom. “That’s nothing! It +ought to be pretty good fun, though, don’t you think +so?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I know it will!” cried Winona fervently. +“Are the boys going to wear their uniforms?” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Tom doubtfully, “we don’t know. +You see, we’ve hiked in ’em, and rolled around on the +grass in ’em wrestling, and done about everything to +those poor old uniforms that you can do to clothes, and +they really aren’t fit for civilized society.” +</p> +<p> +“Meaning ours?” said Winona. “Thanks for the +compliment! Why don’t you have them cleaned? I +suppose even khaki cleans!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said her brother, “I’ll ask mother. +Maybe we can manage it. But—oh, say, Winnie, +there’s something I wanted to speak to you about. +You know, there are new people moved in next door. +They’re Southerners, here for the mother’s health or +something. There’s a boy about my age, and a girl +somewhere around yours. I don’t know much about the +girl, but Billy Lee’s an awfully decent fellow, and we’ve +got him in the Scouts. Now what do you think about +taking his sister into your Camp Fire? She’d just +about fit in as far as age goes, and it would be nice +and neighborly. We’ll have to ask her for the dance +anyway, because there aren’t enough of you Camp +Firers yet to go around. The girl must need something +to do, because Billy seems to worry about her +rather. Stands to reason it isn’t natural for a fellow +to fret about his sister having a good time unless she +needs it pretty badly.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know,” said Winona. “When you +come to a strange place things are bound to be stupid +till you get to know people. We’ve lived here always, +you know. But I’ll go over and see her as soon as +I’ve done the breakfast dishes.” +</p> +<p> +Accordingly, when the breakfast dishes were done +and the dining-room tidied, Winona washed her hands +over again very carefully, and put cold-cream and talcum +powder on them, for she did not like the smell of +dish-water, especially when she was going calling. +Then she made her way to the house next door. +</p> +<p> +All the houses on that block stood in deep yards, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +which went all around them. Winona crossed the path +and went up the porch, feeling a little shy. She had +not asked anyone to join the Camp Fire before. They +were to take in five new girls at the next monthly meeting, +just before they went camping, but all of them +had let the girls know that they wanted to join. Winona +was a moving spirit in Camp Karonya, and she knew +that anyone she vouched for would be welcome. But +she did hope the next-door girl would fit in with the +rest of them. +</p> +<p> +The door was opened by a colored maid, but before +she could say whom she was, a dark, handsome boy of +about fifteen, in a Scout uniform, came running down +the stairs. +</p> +<p> +“You’re Winnie Merriam, aren’t you?” he asked +eagerly. “I’m Billy Lee. I asked your brother to +send you over to see Nataly.” +</p> +<p> +Winona liked Billy on the spot, he was so friendly +and natural and nice, and very good-looking besides. +</p> +<p> +“If his sister’s like him she’ll be splendid to have +in the Camp Fire,” she thought, and her spirits went up +with such a bound that she was able to smile brightly, +and say enthusiastically as she held out her hand to +Billy Lee: +</p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed, I’m Winona Merriam, and I’m so +glad Tom did send me. I know your sister and I are +going to be friends.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I do hope so,” said Billy as confidentially as +if he had known her for years. “I’m having a gorgeous +time in the Scouts—went on a hike yesterday, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +and we never got back till nine o’clock, and three of +the fellows got all stung up with a hornet’s nest.” +</p> +<p> +This didn’t sound much like a fine time to Winona, +but she supposed boys knew what they liked. She +couldn’t help laughing, though. +</p> +<p> + If that’s your idea of a wonderful time<br /> + Take me home—take me home!<br /> +</p> +<p> +she hummed. She thought she’d sung it under her +breath, but it was evidently loud enough to be heard, +for Billy Lee burst out laughing, too. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I didn’t mean that getting stung was a +pleasure exactly,” said he, “but we do have dandy +times.” +</p> +<p> +All this time they had been standing in the hall. +Suddenly it seemed to occur to Billy that Winona had +come to see his sister, not him. He ushered her hurriedly +into the living-room. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll send Nataly down to you,” he promised. But +in another minute he came tearing downstairs again. +</p> +<p> +“She says, would you mind coming up to her +room?” he panted. “She hasn’t felt so awfully well +to-day, and she isn’t exactly up.” +</p> +<p> +Winona followed him, consumed with curiosity as +to what could ail a girl, not to be up on a beautiful +spring morning, and what “not exactly up” meant. +She found out in another minute. +</p> +<p> +The bed-room where Nataly was had all its windows +closed, and there was a close scent of toilet-water and +sachet-powder and unairedness through the whole +place. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +</p> +<p> +“Here’s Winnie Merriam, that I told you about, +sister,” said Billy Lee, and bolted. He never seemed +to walk, only to run. +</p> +<p> +Nataly Lee rose from the couch where she had +been lying, and came toward Winona. +</p> +<p> +“I’m very glad to see you,” she greeted Winnie +languidly. “I think I have seen you—out in your +back garden yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Winona. “I was playing +tag there with my sister Florence and little Bessie +Williams.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you still play tag?” asked Nataly, gesturing +her visitor to a seat, and lifting one weary eyebrow. +</p> +<p> +“Not as a confirmed habit,” said Winona mischievously. +“But you can’t play it well with only two, and +the children wanted me to, so—well, I just did, that was +all. Don’t you like tag?” she added. (“I was morally +certain she’d faint,” she confided to Tom afterwards, +“but she didn’t.”) +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, Nataly pulled closer the blue +brocaded negligee that was obviously covering up a +nightgown, and said, “I don’t know much about games. +I like reading better.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, do you?” exclaimed Winona, interested at +once. “I love reading, too, but somehow there’s so +little time for it except when it’s bad weather. Don’t +you do anything but read?” +</p> +<p> +“Not much,” replied Nataly languidly. “Sports +bore me.” +</p> +<p> +Winona gave an inward gasp of dismay. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mercy!” she thought, “what a queer girl!” But +outwardly she persevered. “Don’t you ever dance?” +</p> +<p> +Nataly opened her heavy hazel eyes with a little +more interest. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, I dance, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“So do I,” said Winona. “I love it.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you?” said Nataly. “I shouldn’t think so—you +seem so—athletic.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m glad,” said Winona innocently, beaming +with pleasure. “But I’m not, particularly. I can swim, +of course, and row and paddle a little, and play tennis +a little. But I’ve never played hockey or basket-ball, +either of them, much. Or baseball.” +</p> +<p> +“Do girls play baseball up here?” demanded +Nataly, sitting up and letting a paper novel with a +thrilling picture on the cover slide to the floor. +</p> +<p> +“They do,” averred Winona solemnly, but with +sparkling eyes. She was tempted to go on shocking +her hostess by thrilling stories of invented boxing-matches +between herself and her little schoolmates, +but she thought better of it. “But that wasn’t really +what I came about,” she went on, looking longingly +at the closed window, for the airless room was beginning +to make her cheeks burn. “Next week the Scouts +are giving us Camp Fire Girls a dance, you know—and +you are coming, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I think so,” Nataly spoke slowly, lying back +on the sofa and beginning to finger her paper novel +again. +</p> +<p> +“Well”—it came out with rather a rush—“would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +you like to join the Camp Fire? I think you’d like it.” +</p> +<p> +She went on enthusiastically telling Nataly all about +it, till she was brought up short by a genuine and unsuppressed +yawn on Nataly’s part. +</p> +<p> +“All that work?” said Nataly plaintively. “Oh, +I couldn’t do any of those things—I’d die!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m sorry,” Winona was a little taken aback. +The idea of considering whether things were too much +trouble or not was a new one to her. She had always +gone on the principle that—why—you <em>wanted</em> to plunge +into things head-foremost, and do them with all your +might—that was the way to have fun! So the idea +of lying on a sofa and shuddering at the idea of work +was a great surprise. +</p> +<p> +“No, I really couldn’t join,” said Nataly, with +the first energy she had shown. “But I’m very glad +you came to see me.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, so am I,” said Winona politely. “And you +will come and see me as soon as you can, won’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” promised Nataly. She threw up +her hand and pressed a button back of her sofa as she +spoke, for Winona was rising to go. +</p> +<p> +“Emma will show you the way downstairs,” she +said languidly, “and don’t you want this? It’s very +interesting—I’ve just finished it.” +</p> +<p> +“This” was the paper novel with the melodramatic +cover. +</p> +<p> +“Why, thank you!” said Winona, taking it politely. +“It’s very kind of you. And you will come over?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” responded Billy Lee’s sister, “I shall +be very glad to call.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +“Well, how was it?” demanded Tom of his sister +that evening. +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed and shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“Why, very nice. Only Nataly Lee’s about a +million years older than I am, and she made me feel +as if I were seven instead of fourteen. And she certainly +is the <em>queerest</em> girl! She doesn’t seem to want +to do anything for fear it will be too much trouble!” +</p> +<p> +“What about joining up with your Daughters of +Pocahontas?” inquired Tom. +</p> +<p> +Winona didn’t stop to rebuke him for his flippancy. +</p> +<p> +“Well, about that,” she replied, “she reminded me +of one of the haughty ladies in the Japanese Schoolboy’s +housework experiences—don’t you remember? +‘I have not the want to,’ she sniffed haughtily with +considerable frequency! But she’s coming to the +dance.” +</p> +<p> +“Queer,” said Tom. “There’s no nonsense about +Billy—he’s a good all-around fellow. Well, you never +can tell.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” acquiesced Winona philosophically, “you +can’t, and it’s rather a good thing, too!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> +<p> +“You certainly are taking it easy, considering +there’s going to be a dance!” declared Tom. “Usually +when anything like that is going to happen you run +around like a hen with its head cut off!” +</p> +<p> +“No reason why I should, this time,” said Winona, +laughing. “You Scouts are giving the dance, not we. +Though perhaps it’s because my dress is off my mind. +You always have to press a frock out and clean your +white shoes, and be sure your sash is all right, when +you’re wearing anything festive. But thanks to your +suggestion about wearing the ceremonial dress, you’ll +see ‘ten little Injuns’ walking in to-night, headbands, +moccasins and all—and I have nothing to worry about.” +</p> +<p> +Winona stretched herself out in the Morris-chair +and looked provokingly comfortable and unoccupied. +</p> +<p> +“I heard about it,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +Winona flushed. +</p> +<p> +“What did you hear?” +</p> +<p> +“About you and your ceremonial dresses. But I +guessed, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Who told you—and what did they tell?” demanded +Winona, sitting up and looking ruffled. +</p> +<p> +“Marie—that all the girls mightn’t have party +clothes,” Tom placidly replied. +</p> +<p> +“Marie hadn’t any business to!” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I guessed the rest. You see, Lonny Hughes +is in the Scouts, too, and he—well, he tells me things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +sometimes. And I know Adelaide felt pretty badly for +awhile because she couldn’t keep up with some of you—Edith +mostly, I guess. He said he had to fairly bully +his sister into joining you girls, even after Nannie’d +coaxed her. You certainly were a good sport, Win! +You know, there’s just Lonny and Adelaide and a +younger sister, and the father. They have one of those +little flats over James’s drug-store, in the Williamson +Block, and Mr. Hughes doesn’t get an awful lot of +salary. Anyway, the kids keep house, and Adelaide +has to look after herself all the way round. So she +takes this hard, the money end, I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“I think she’s silly!” said downright Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe!” said Tom wisely, and went on bestowing +loving care on his repeating rifle, the joy of his life. +</p> +<p> +Winona retired into a book, and Tom, looking up +a second later, caught sight of its cover. +</p> +<p> +“Great Scott!” he ejaculated, eying it. “Where +did you get <em>that?</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Where did she get what?” asked Louise, walking +unceremoniously in. “Hello, Tom. Oh, Winnie, I +want you to show me about this headband. I can’t get +the colors matched right—you know you have to be +rather kind to beautiful golden hair like mine. It +won’t stand every color there is.” +</p> +<p> +“No rest for the wicked!” said Winona cheerfully, +sitting up and abandoning her book. “You don’t +mean you’re going to try to get this done for to-night?” +</p> +<p> +“I certainly am,” said Louise doggedly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +</p> +<p> +“All right.” And Winona, pulled up a little table +between them. “Here—this is the way.” +</p> +<p> +The two girls bent over the little loom, their heads +close together. Tom, meanwhile, finished cleaning +his gun, wrapped it carefully in oiled red flannel, and +looked around for more worlds to conquer. +</p> +<p> +The first thing his eyes lighted on was the paper +novel Winona had reluctantly laid down—the one +Nataly had loaned her. +</p> +<p> +“For the love of Mike, where did you get this?” +</p> +<p> +“Your friend’s sister, next door,” said Winona +mischievously. “Don’t you like her taste in books?” +</p> +<p> +“Crazy about it!” said Tom. “‘Beautiful +Coralie’s Doom; or, Answered in Jest,’” he read from +the vivid cover. “Say Louise, this hero was a dream. +You ought to hear the amount of things he’s called +the heroine, and this is only the first chapter!” +</p> +<p> +“Go ahead,” urged Louise, while Winona tried +vainly to get the book away from her brother, “I guess +I can bear it!” +</p> +<p> +“Let’s see. Child, sweetheart, angel, cara-mia, +little one—I’ll have to start on the other hand, I’ve used +up all my fingers on this one—loved one, petite, schatzchen—wonder +what that is? The only thing he’s left +out so far is ‘kiddo.’ I suppose we’ll come to that +further on. ‘Lancelot looked down at her through his +long, superfluous eyelashes,’” Tom went on, reading +at the top of his strong young voice. “Those were +well-trained eyelashes all right. I’ll bet he hung by +’em every day to get ’em in shape to use so much. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +I’ve found six sentences about those lashes on one page, +and every one the same.” +</p> +<p> +“You wouldn’t expect him to have a new set every +time, would you?” inquired Louise sarcastically. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a wonder he didn’t have to. One set must +have been pretty well worn out by the end of a chapter. +‘Ah, you wicked fellow,’ Coralie said archly,” he +went on, sitting down on the floor with the book. +Winona made a dive for it, but she wasn’t quick +enough. “This wicked part’s what gets me. There’s +an average of twenty-five ‘wickeds’ to every chapter, +and the poor fellow’s never even forgotten to return +an umbrella!” +</p> +<p> +“Or a book his sister was reading,” suggested +Louise. +</p> +<p> +“And what’s a ‘saucy meow,’ Winona? Coralie +did ’em all the time. Can you?” +</p> +<p> +But here Winona threw herself bodily on him, and +this time she managed to recover her book, which she +sat on. +</p> +<p> +“Well, this literature class is very interesting, but +my happy home wants me,” said Louise, rising and +taking up her loom and the headband, which was in a +fair way to be properly finished now. “Thanks, ever +so much, Ray of Light. You’re the best girl as ever-ever-was. +See you to-night, Tommy.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, <em>that’s</em> some girl,” said Tom admiringly. +“No nonsense about her. Do you want me to take +you over, Winnie?” +</p> +<p> +“That would be awfully nice of you, but we thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +we’d ‘attend in a body,’ as the papers say,” answered +Winona. “Aren’t you boys going to?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you see, there are extra girls,” explained +Tom. “There aren’t enough of you Scoutragettes to +go round, so we’ve asked some other girls, and we +have to go after them. But we’ll get them early, and +be there to meet you when you get there.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t want to croak.” And Winona arose +to go into the kitchen, for that way lay an honor bead, +and it was nearly supper-getting time. “But I think +the boy who goes after Nataly Lee <em>won’t</em> be drawn +up to meet us, unless we kindly hold back the order of +march for him.” +</p> +<p> +“Shouldn’t wonder,” called Tom after her. “Get +something good for supper, there’s a useful sister!” +</p> +<p> +But though there was a slight delay in the order of +march, it was Louise Lane, of all unexpected people, +who was responsible for it: her headband went wrong +after all, she explained when, flushed and panting, she +appeared in her other one at the meeting-place. +</p> +<p> +The girls fell into step and marched, two and two, +out into the street up the short block to the school-house, +where most of the public affairs in the town were held. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, isn’t it gorgeous?” whispered Winona irrepressibly +as they came steadily and lightly up the centre +of the hall, till they faced the Scouts. +</p> +<p> +These last were drawn up in a military formation, +in the order of their seniority, with the Scoutmaster +at their head. He was a plump, cheerful, middle-aged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +man, the father of three of the Scouts, and vice-principal +of the High School. But you would never +have thought he had seen a class-room, he looked so +military and colonel-fied, there at the head of his line +of erect, soldierly-looking boys. +</p> +<p> +“It’s like real receptions!” whispered Helen to +Winona, as the orchestra blared out “Hail to the +Chief!” which was as near to “Welcome to the Camp +Fire Girls” as the orchestra’s resources could come. +Then Mrs. Bryan and Mr. Gedney gave the order to +break ranks, and the orchestra slid with surprising +ease into a Paul Jones. So did the boys and girls. +</p> +<p> +“We got here first, you see,” whispered Tom to +Winona as he crossed her. The round went on for quite +a little while before the whistle blew for the breaking +up into twos, so Winona was able to question and +answer bit by bit as she and her brother met and parted. +</p> +<p> +“What about the extra girls?” she whispered, for +no extra girls were to be seen. +</p> +<p> +“The fellows are going after them now,” explained +Tom. “This was a dance——” Tom had to leave, +and finished on the next round, “for the Camp Fire. +The others didn’t come first, naturally.” +</p> +<p> +And sure enough, by the time the first dance was +over, the extra boys were back, bringing partners with +them—girls Camp Karonya knew, and who were presently +going to form a second Camp Fire—for Camp +Karonya’s membership list was almost full now. The +newcomers had evidently been asked to wear fancy costume, +and the effect of the Indian dresses that the Camp +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +Fire Girls wore, and the boys’ military clothes, was +lighted up and made more beautiful by the dash of color +made by an occasional gypsy or Oriental lady. +</p> +<p> +The hall had been decorated in a half-military, +half-woodland fashion, with tents draped against the +walls, crossed rifles, green boughs and lighted lanterns. +It was a warm night, so they had filled the big fireplace +at the side of the room with boughs. The entrance +to the kitchen, where the cooking-classes were held in +the school every Friday, was covered by a tent. Behind +that tent, the exciting rumor spread, was a real +colored caterer who was going to serve refreshments +of unparalleled splendor at the proper time. +</p> +<p> +But at about ten o’clock a frenzied rapping was +heard from the place which was supposed to hold the +mysterious caterer. It rose above the music. Mr. +Gedney hurried to the door to see what had happened. +An irate negro appeared—the city caterer who had been +imported to lend grandeur to the scene. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Gedney,” he said in what he may have thought +was a tragic whisper, but which echoed through half the +hall, “I’se been a-caperin’ fo’ nineteen yeahs, an’ ah +nevah had anything as shockin’ happen to me as dis +heah befo’.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what’s the matter, Thomas?” Mr. Gedney +asked, while the more curious of the dancers marked +time gently within earshot. +</p> +<p> +“Dey done stole mah ’freshments!” wailed the +darky, forgetting, in his emotion, to lower his voice. +“Ah had de ice-cream an’ de san-wiches an’ de fruit-punch +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +an’ de fancy-cake”—a soft moan went up unconsciously +over the room as the hungry dancers heard of +these vanished glories—“an’ Ah put dem out on de +side poach till Ah wanted dem. Ah didn’t know Ah +was comin’ to no thief-town. An dey’s <em>gone!</em>” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Gedney rose to the occasion nobly. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll find some of them, Thomas,” he said. +</p> +<p> +By this time nearly everyone in the room had paused +about the door. Mr. Gedney raised his voice. +“Ladies,” he said, “if you will excuse your partners +for half an hour they will go out on the trail of our—ah—vanished +refection. Scouts, attention! By twos, +forward—hike!” +</p> +<p> +In an instant every Scout, with a hasty excuse to +his partner, had vanished from the building. +</p> +<p> +“It’s that Bent Street gang,” hissed Tom to his +sister in passing. “We know where they hang out, +and where they’re likely to have cached the eats.” +</p> +<p> +“I only hope there’ll be something left by the time +the Scouts find the food,” wailed Louise. “Don’t look +so happy, Winnie—it’s insulting!” +</p> +<p> +“She’s swelling as if she had an idea,” suggested +Helen, who had come over. “What is it, Win?” +</p> +<p> +“So I have!” said Winona, her eyes sparkling as +they always did when Great Ideas came her way. She +was rather given to them. She ran across to Mrs. +Bryan and began to talk to her in an excited whisper. +</p> +<p> +When she had done Mrs. Bryan nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Splendid!” she said. “Tell the girls yourself, +my dear.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +</p> +<p> +So Winona stood swiftly out in the middle of the +floor, a slim, gallant little figure in her Indian frock +and the long strings of scarlet beads she had added to it. +</p> +<p> +“Girls!” she said. “Those refreshments mayn’t +ever come back. The boys won’t be back with them +right away, anyhow. Let’s get together and make some +more!” +</p> +<p> +“Good!” called out all the girls at once, and came +flocking around Mrs. Bryan and Winona for orders. +But Mrs. Bryan wouldn’t give any. +</p> +<p> +“You manage it, Ray of Light!” said she as +Winona turned to her. +</p> +<p> +“We want sandwiches and fruit punch and cakes, +and—we can’t get ice-cream this late at night,” she +remembered. +</p> +<p> +“We can get oysters,” said Helen’s competent voice +from behind a group of girls. “That oyster house +down on Front Street is always open till twelve.” +</p> +<p> +“Then we can make creamed oysters—good!” said +Winona. “Let’s see—sixteen couples—about fifty +sandwiches, if you count three to a person. Six loaves +of bread, about. Marie, you belong to a big family—do +you think you have any bread in the house your family +could part with?” +</p> +<p> +“Three loaves, anyway,” said Marie. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll bring the other three,” spoke up Elizabeth +Greene, one of the new members. +</p> +<p> +They both threw on their wraps and hurried out. +Fortunately, most of the girls lived close by. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll send Thomas for the oysters,” suggested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +Mrs. Bryan next. “None of you want to go to Front +Street this time of night.” +</p> +<p> +She produced her purse from the pocket of her ceremonial +dress, and went to send Thomas for the oysters. +</p> +<p> +“Has anybody got anything in their house to fill +sandwiches with?” Winona went on. +</p> +<p> +“We have two pounds of dates,” offered Edith +Hillis, “and some rolls of cream cheese.” +</p> +<p> +“And I have the other half of both sketches, peanut +butter and lettuces,” called out Louise, “three heads, +and two big glasses.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, go get ’em,” said Winona unceremoniously, +and two more sisters of the Camp Fire hurried +on their wraps and fled out into the night. +</p> +<p> +“I have milk and butter, myself,” went on Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Nannie,” hinted Helen to Mrs. Bryan, who had +returned, “do you remember those three big layer cakes +you made for the Presbyterian fair? I’ll make them +over again if I can have them now.” +</p> +<p> +“No you won’t, my child, because they’re my contribution,” +returned her step-mother briskly. “Thank +you for reminding me. I’ll get them, and pineapples +and lemons for your contribution to the lemonade.” +</p> +<p> +Dorothy remembered that she had some oranges +and bananas, and Adelaide finally recalled to the rest +that creamed oysters need thickening, and went after +flour and salt and pepper. +</p> +<p> +A couple of the other girls had candy at home, +beautifully fresh and home-made. In fifteen minutes +every girl was back laden down, and all of them invaded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +the little school kitchen. Fortunately most of +the sixteen had taken cooking lessons there, and knew +just where to find everything, even to their own aprons. +So there was no time lost searching for matches and +knives and bowls, and other such necessaries. +</p> +<p> +One group of four cut and squeezed and sliced +fruit for the fruit-punch—or fruit-lemonade, to give it +the only name it was really entitled to. Another set +prepared the sandwiches, which, what with pitting and +chopping the dates for the date-and-peanut-butter ones, +and cutting and spreading six big loaves of bread, was +quite an undertaking. Another group handled the +creamed oysters. This last wasn’t exactly a group, +though, because, try as you may, it is impossible for +more than two people to make one cream gravy, or white +sauce. The rest cut cake and arranged plates and +looked after the serving generally. +</p> +<p> +Thomas the “caperer” sat in a corner and +“shucked oysters,” as he called it, with his two attendant +waiters standing statue-like behind him. It made +a very impressive, if rather useless group. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan lent a helping hand here and there as +it was needed, but in the main she left the guidance of +the affair to Winona’s generalship. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I didn’t know how easy it was to have +people do things!” Winona whispered to the Guardian, +when that lady came over to her once to advise a little +more butter in the gravy. +</p> +<p> +“You happen to have executive ability, that’s all,” +explained Mrs. Bryan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed. “Oh, it doesn’t take executive +ability when people want to help!” she returned gayly. +</p> +<p> +The boys got back in just forty-five minutes, with +rather dirtier uniforms than they had taken away. +They were panting, also, and had a general cheerful air +of having had something happen. But with them they +bore, triumphantly, the untouched freezer, full of +beautiful molds of ice-cream; also a large pasteboard +box full of untouched, but rather crumpled-looking, +fancy cakes. +</p> +<p> +The sandwiches, they explained regretfully, were +beyond recall, and so was the salad. The Bent Street +gang had been just about to begin their last course +when the Scouts descended. +</p> +<p> +“We had a bully time!” said Billy Lee to Winona, +who emerged from the kitchen, trying hard to look +unoccupied, as did all the rest of the girls. “We didn’t +expect a lark like that in the middle of this. But it’s +hard on you girls to miss half the refreshments!” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t worry,” said Winona cheerfully. “We +aren’t going to miss any of the refreshments, and +neither are you! What do you think Camp Fire Girls +are good for?” +</p> +<p> +“Lots!” said Billy honestly, “but I don’t see——” +</p> +<p> +“That’s because you aren’t looking,” laughed +Winona. +</p> +<p> +She pointed towards the little tent that draped the +kitchen door. From out that tent issued haughtily +Thomas’s two negro waiters, each bearing a steaming, +creamed-oyster-laden tray. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’d better sit down,” suggested Winona, +“Everybody else has.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, this is great!” cried Billy enthusiastically, +between bites of creamed oysters and sandwiches, and +sips of fruit lemonade that was really better than that +the Bent Street gang had stolen. “You don’t mean +to say you girls did all this right off the bat, while +we were hunting the hoodlums, do you?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course we did,” and Winona dimpled +with pleasure. “There were such a lot of us that it +wasn’t hard at all.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow, whoever managed it was a mighty clever +person,” said Billy, meditatively eating his last oyster. +“Don’t you think so?” +</p> +<p> +This happened to be a rather embarrassing question. +</p> +<p> +“Why, no!” she said thoughtlessly. +</p> +<p> +“Then it was you!” said Billy, jumping cleverly +to his conclusion. +</p> +<p> +“We all helped,” said Winona, blushing. “Everybody +brought something. I only thought of it first—that +was easy.” +</p> +<p> +“Easy if you know how!” said Billy skeptically. +</p> +<p> +“Winona knew how,” asserted Helen’s voice behind +them. She began to talk to Winona and Billy very +earnestly about several things that didn’t seem to have +much to do with life in general. They had to turn half +round to face her, which was what she wanted, for it +prevented Winona from seeing that all the members +of the Camp Fire were clustered near her place. The +first she knew of it was Mrs. Bryan’s voice saying: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +</p> +<p> +“All together, girls—a cheer for Ray of Light, who +saved the refreshments!” +</p> +<p> +The girls’ voices rang out in the triple cheer for +Winona, who blushed harder than ever. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t do anything but suggest it!” she explained +uselessly. Then she remembered her manners +and sprang up. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Sisters of the Camp Fire—even if I +<em>don’t</em> deserve it!” she said gayly. +</p> +<p> +Then the band started up and dancing went on. +</p> +<p> +The evening ended with a riotous Virginia reel +(which, by the way, meant an honor bead for every +girl, because the boys none of them knew much about +reeling, and had to be shown) and a final ringing cheer +for the Camp Fire Girls by the Scouts. Then the party +broke up. Though broke up is hardly the word, for +the girls marched out, as they had come, in a body, with +a military file of Scouts on either side of them. Altogether +it certainly was the most festive of parties, and +everybody thought so even next morning, when the +mournful things about a party are apt to occur to you. +</p> +<p> +The Scouts insisted, by the way, on replacing the +various things that had been taken out of various pantries. +The girls had intended to pay their families +scrupulously back, but the Scouts extracted an exact +account of the commandeered supplies from their sisters +and cousins. Then they saw to it that everything, from +the last loaf of bread to the last peanut, was redelivered +by four next day. And so ended “the very +best party,” as everybody agreed, “that we ever had.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> +<p> +“It <em>was</em> a nice party!” sighed Winona, for the +tenth time, next day. +</p> +<p> +“It was,” admitted Tom. “I enjoyed it myself. +Also the eats were good. Very clever of us to give a +party like that. The question is, if you girls had to +manage a real meal what would happen?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” said +Winona. “This very afternoon, at Mrs. Bryan’s!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, can’t I go?” clamored Florence. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it’s just Helen and Louise and Adelaide +Hughes and I,” Winona hesitated. “It’s the maid’s +day out, and we’re going to get the supper and clear +it away. Four of the others are going to do it a day +or so later. And we’re all going to try to get the same +supper at our own houses, the next night.” +</p> +<p> +“Then of course I want to go!” said Florence, “so +I can get the same supper at home the next night.” +</p> +<p> +Still Winona hesitated. It certainly is a nuisance to +have a small sister who wants to tag, when you are +just starting off to have a particularly nice time with +your most intimate friends. And to add to the charm +of the situation, just then in rushed Puppums through +the back door, and seeing Winona with her hat in her +hand, promptly sat up and began to beg wildly. Winona +began to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, come on, then, the whole family!” she said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +</p> +<p> +Florence and Puppums both yelped for joy. +</p> +<p> +“Shall I send Tom over to bring you back this +evening?” asked Winona’s mother, who was sitting +near. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no—it isn’t far,” said Winona, “and it won’t +be late when I get back. Besides, I’ll have Florence and +the doggie.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said her mother. “And don’t try +to cook things that are too gorgeous, my dear, because +we haven’t as much money as the Bryans, and it might +turn out to be very expensive.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll remember,” said Winona, starting off with +her little sister beside her, and Puppums careering +wildly about them both. But it was one of the things +that never did worry the Merriams, whether or not +they had as much money as their neighbors. The +three children and the dog, as their friends said, +“always did seem to be having such a good time!” +They were handsome and light-hearted—that is, the +children were. Puppums was more remarkable for +brains than beauty, as Tom said; being part pug, part +bull-terrier and part fox-terrier, with a dash of retriever +suspected in his remote ancestry. However, +as long as he had his own way and plenty of bones +and enough laps to sit on, neither his looks nor anything +else worried the Puppums dog. His family had +intended to give him a very fine name, but as Puppums +he started when he was a small, wriggling mongrel-baby, +and to nothing but Puppums would he ever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +deign to answer. So the family made the best of it. +It was a way they had, anyway. +</p> +<p> +Florence began to career around her sister very +much as the dog was doing, singing at the top of +her voice meanwhile. So, as Winona did not have +to talk, she began to think. What her mother had +said about their not having so much money as the +Bryans set her to wondering, not about herself, but +about Adelaide Hughes. She had noticed that Mrs. +Bryan seemed to want Adelaide to make friends with +the other girls, and that Adelaide herself was very apt +to leave the first advances to them. And the reason, +she supposed, was that Adelaide felt she was too poor +to keep up with them, or so Tom had said. +</p> +<p> +“But I don’t ever feel as if I had to keep up with +Helen, and she has twice as many dresses and twice +as much money to spend as I have,” meditated +Winona. “I wonder if I could ask Adelaide about it +without hurting her feelings. I will if I get the +chance.” +</p> +<p> +About this time Winona and her caravan reached +the Bryan house, and Florence ran ahead so quickly to +ring the bell that Winona had to run, too, to be there +when the door opened. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve brought my family, Mrs. Bryan!” said +Winona. “I hadn’t any choice—they simply would +come. It’s really your fault for being so popular +with them.” +</p> +<p> +“Your family’s very welcome!” said Mrs. Bryan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +“If it’s willing to be useful. What about it, Florence,—will +you run errands for us if we want you to?” +</p> +<p> +“Course I will!” said Florence, flinging herself +bodily on Mrs. Bryan and hugging her hard. “I +want to work!” +</p> +<p> +“Puppums wants to help, too,” said Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you can’t help that way, you little villain,” +said Louise, appearing aproned in the doorway and +making a dash for the dog. He had his paws on the +table, and was most ill-manneredly trying to find out +what was wrapped up in the paper with the lovely +meaty smell. Louise rescued the package, and carried +it out to the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +“Is everyone here?” asked Mrs. Bryan. “No, +I miss Adelaide.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s just coming now,” said Helen from the +living-room window. “I wonder if she’s remembered +to bring her apron?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” cried Winona, “I never brought mine!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll go get it,” said Florence. “You see, you +need me already!” +</p> +<p> +She flew off, with the dog at her heels. +</p> +<p> +“Truly, I’m sorry, Mrs. Bryan,” apologized +Winona again, “but she would have felt so badly +if I hadn’t let her come!” +</p> +<p> +“You ought to sit on her more,” suggested Louise, +popping her head out of the kitchen door again. “I +do on mine.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you have such a lot of brothers and sisters +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +you have to,” said Winona, for Louise was the oldest +of six. +</p> +<p> +“Bessie wanted to come,” said Louise, “but I put +my foot down.” +</p> +<p> +“On Bessie?” laughed Winona, as she ran to open +the door for Adelaide. “I hope you didn’t hurt her.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you bring your apron, Adelaide?” called +Helen anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“There! She’s asked every one of us that question +in turn,” said Louise, coming out into the living-room +for the fourth time in five minutes. “I do hope +you did!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, I did,” said Adelaide. “I have it here +under my arm.” +</p> +<p> +“And here’s Florence back with mine!” said +Winona. “Now may we start?” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t quite time yet,” said Mrs. Bryan. “If +we plan for supper at six, one hour is a great plenty +of time for supper-getting, especially with all of us +at it. It’s only four-thirty now, and I want to tell +you a plan I have. Come here, Florence. It’s about +you and your friends.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, a plan about me!” said Florence. “That +is nice!” +</p> +<p> +“You see, girls,” went on Mrs. Bryan, “there are +always little sisters or cousins of Camp Fire Girls, like +Florence and Bessie and the rest, who want to play, +too. They aren’t old enough to belong to Camp Fires +of their own, so the way we do is to make them an +annex to ours, under the name of Blue Birds—the Blue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +Bird stands for happiness, you know. And we help +them, and show them how to have good times, too, and—they +don’t have to tag any more.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t mean to tag,” said Florence, looking a +little ashamed. “I just wanted to—to come, too!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you will go and find Bessie Lane, and—Adelaide, +you have a little sister about their ages, +haven’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Adelaide. “Frances is nine.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Florence, get Bessie and Frances if you +can find them, and we’ll discover something for our +nest of Blue Birds to do.” +</p> +<p> +“I think it’s lovely, being a Blue Bird,” said Florence, +very much impressed by belonging to a society +of her own. +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you’re a bird, fly!” said Louise, giving +her a little push. +</p> +<p> +The girls talked for a while longer, then donned +their aprons and went out into the kitchen, where they +stood and waited for further orders. +</p> +<p> +“There are four of you,” said their Guardian. +“There’s the table to set, salad and dressing to make, +meat and potatoes to prepare, and dessert. Cocoa and +cake, too. You’re welcome to anything in the ice-box, +but the game is to get supper without buying anything +extra, unless something like bread or sugar gives +out—some staple.” +</p> +<p> +“That will be more fun,” said Winona, who had +had some experience lately with cooking. “It’s much +more interesting thinking out ways to make things out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +of other things, than when you cook straight ahead!” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide stared as if Winona had said a very +strange thing. But then Adelaide always did look at +Winona more or less that way. +</p> +<p> +“I think the most fun is eating out of paper bags,” +said Louise. “No washee dishee. However, I only +think that—I wouldn’t dare say it. How’ll we +divide?” +</p> +<p> +“Decide that yourselves,” said Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s see what there is in the ice-box, first,” +Winona suggested prudently, when Mrs. Bryan had +left them alone. So they investigated. +</p> +<p> +“Eight large baked potatoes!” counted Louise. +“How on earth did you miscalculate so badly as that, +Helen, or are they there for our special benefit?” +</p> +<p> +“No, it just happened,” said Helen. “Father +was going to bring a friend home to dinner last night, +and neither of them could get here after all.” +</p> +<p> +There was also a large piece of cooked beefsteak, +a head of lettuce, a dish of cooked peas and some beets. +There were other things in the ice-box as well, but +these were what the girls chose. They brought some +apples up from down cellar, too, and stacked them in a +row on the table with the other things. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Nannie said that the game was to use as +many leftovers as possible and do everything as inexpensively +as we could and yet have everything taste +good and not seem warmed over,” said Helen. +</p> +<p> +“That’s something a lot of grown-up women never +do,” said Louise. “My aunt——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan came from the living-room to say. “I’ll +show you anything you don’t know about, girls, but +you must do the actual work yourselves, or you won’t +know how.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes!” said Louise. “Choose your poison, Ladies +and Gentlemen!” She pulled her cooking-cap close +down over her hair. “I’m going to do the potatoes. +I think I know how to fix them.” +</p> +<p> +“Cold baked potatoes?” said Helen. “There isn’t +anything, except creaming them.” +</p> +<p> +“They’re all right that way,” said Louise, “but +that isn’t what I’m going to do.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll take the cake,” said Helen. “I saw +some sour milk in the ice-box, and spice-cake is the +cheapest cake I know.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll take the meat,” said Winona. “There must +be something I can do with a beautiful piece of steak +like that, even if it is cooked.” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide had not said anything. +</p> +<p> +“That leaves the salad for you, Adelaide,” said +Mrs. Bryan cheerfully. “Louise, you’d better see +about some fruit for supper, for your potatoes won’t +take you long.” +</p> +<p> +Then Mrs. Bryan introduced them to the ways of +the gas-range, and went back to lie in wait for her +Blue Birds. +</p> +<p> +Helen collected spice and molasses and flour and +shortening around her corner of the table, and went +systematically to work on her spice-cake. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +</p> +<p> +“It looks like gingerbread,” said Winona, getting +the bread-crumb jar. +</p> +<p> +“It is, really, only it hasn’t much ginger in,” explained +Helen. “Lots of people don’t like ginger. +What are you going to do with your steak, Winnie?” +</p> +<p> +“Frame it!” advised Louise frivolously. “They +say they have a four-pound steak under glass at the +Metropolitan Museum, as a relic of the days when +each family had at least one in a lifetime.” +</p> +<p> +“If you want to frame your share of it you may,” +said Winona. “I’m going to eat mine.” +</p> +<p> +“They’re supposed to be eaten,” put in Helen +mildly. “But really, Winnie, I think you have rather +a hard job. There’s not nearly enough steak there for +eight people. It was only intended for five in the first +place.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the game, isn’t it?” said Winona placidly. +“Besides, I’m going to send Florence home to supper. +It’s all right for her to attach herself to the party for +the afternoon, but I draw the line at her inviting +herself to a meal—don’t you think so, Louise?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m wid yez,” called Louise back from the gas-range, +where she was doing something with sugar and +water. “Bessie goes back, too.” +</p> +<p> +Winona got the chopping-machine, divided a big +stalk of celery with Adelaide, made another excursion +to the shelf over the ice-box for some peppers +and onions, and began to grind her beefsteak. +</p> +<p> +“Croquettes?” inquired Louise curiously. +</p> +<p> +“No, scalloped meat,” answered Winona. “The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +croquettes won’t go as far, and there’ll be the cream +gravy extra, and we’ll need milk for the cocoa. Besides, +the deep fat to fry them would be another horrible +extravagance.” +</p> +<p> +She put in a layer of meat as she spoke, then the +ground celery and peppers and seasoning, and a generous +layer of bread-crumbs. +</p> +<p> +“But aren’t celery and peppers an extravagance, +too?” put in Adelaide, looking faintly interested. She +was the only one of the four girls not busy. She had +not started on her salad. +</p> +<p> +“They would be if they weren’t in the house,” said +Winona carelessly, “though I don’t think they are +costly this time of year. But I’m using them for their +bulk. Mother flavors with celery seed when celery’s +too high.” +</p> +<p> +She continued to build up her edifice of meat and +crumbs and so forth, and finally drenched it with cold +water and put it in the oven. +</p> +<p> +“Be careful of my cake when you look at your +meat,” reminded Helen, coming and tucking her spice-cake +in beside the meat as she spoke. “How are you +getting on, Adelaide?” +</p> +<p> +“Not at all,” said Adelaide ashamedly. “I don’t +believe I know how to make salads.” +</p> +<p> +“Come help me set the table, then,” invited Helen. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Adelaide, getting up slowly from +her kitchen chair, and flinging her long, untidy braids +back over her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“No, Helen, please!” said Winona. “Let me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +show Adelaide. I think we can make a perfectly lovely +salad in a few minutes.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Winnie!” said Helen cheerfully, and +vanished into the dining-room alone. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see how!” said Adelaide. “I thought +you had to have chicken or lobster or such things for +salad—and I’m sure I’d curdle the dressing.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you will if you expect to,” said Louise, +setting her syrup on to boil, and beginning to pare and +quarter apples and drop them in cold water so they +wouldn’t brown. “Why don’t you make boiled +dressing?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t know about it,” said Adelaide. +</p> +<p> +“Good gracious!” said Louise. “How on earth +do you manage at your house?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, there’s just father and Lonny and France +and I, and mostly father brings home things from the +delicatessen. And sometimes we roast meat and just +eat at it till it’s gone. I’m not old enough to know +much about housekeeping, father says. But Lonny +cooks sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +Winona and Louise both stared at her. +</p> +<p> +“I’d go crazy,” said Louise frankly. “I should +think you’d get so you never wanted to eat anything.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway, you can ‘try this on your piano’ when +you go home,” Winona threw in hastily, giving Louise +a furtive, if thorough, pinch as she passed her, for +she had seen Adelaide color up. “Boiled dressing’s +easy. You know how to make drawn butter, don’t you—white +sauce?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Adelaide, rising. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” explained Winona, “when you melt the +butter in the pan to mix with the flour, you add some +mustard, just a pinch, and salt and pepper. Then when +you’ve put in the flour, and the milk, and it’s just +going to thicken, you put in the yolk of an egg. When +it’s cold you thin it with vinegar. That isn’t hard, +is it?” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide was swiftly following directions as +Winona talked. +</p> +<p> +“Thin the egg with milk, and beat it a little—that’s +right,” said Winona. “There—now take it off. The +egg only wants to cook a minute. Now all you have +to do is wait till it cools and add the vinegar, and—there’s +your dressing!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, it isn’t a bit hard!” said Adelaide wonderingly. +</p> +<p> +“Nor a bit expensive,” said Winona. “As for +the salad, you can make salad out of any kind of +vegetable that will cut up.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me see if I can work it out alone,” said +Adelaide. +</p> +<p> +She washed the lettuce and set it on the individual +salad plates Helen found for her. Then she began to +combine peas and beets and celery quite as if she knew +how. +</p> +<p> +Winona watched her for a minute, then went over +to see what Louise was doing. While she had been +helping Adelaide Louise’s syrup had cooked enough +to have the quartered apples dropped into it, and now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +it was bubbling on the back of the stove. Just as +Winona came over Louise took off the apples, cooked +through, but not to the point of losing their shape, and +put them outdoors to cool. Then she turned her attention +to the baked potatoes of yesterday. +</p> +<p> +She had heated them through, and now she cut off +the tops and scooped out the inside, and was mixing +it with milk and butter and a little onion, and beating +it till it was creamy. +</p> +<p> +“They’re harder to do than if they were fresh,” +she said, pounding vigorously, “but I guess they’ll +come out all right, when they’ve been browned a +minute.” +</p> +<p> +“They’ll be browned just about the time my scalloped +meat’s done,” responded Winona, dropping to +her knees before the oven. “Oh, Helen, come take +out your cake! It’s all done—I’ve tried it with a +straw.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it isn’t burned, is it?” cried Helen, dashing in. +</p> +<p> +It wasn’t. She put it on the shelf over the range, +to keep warm, and headed a party bound upstairs to +tidy up. +</p> +<p> +“You didn’t set places for those little taggers?” +called Louise to Helen on the way up. +</p> +<p> +“Not at our table,” said Helen. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span>CHAPTER NINE</h2> +<p> +When the four girls came down and put on the +supper they found a surprise waiting for them. Beside +the large table the little sewing-table had been +moved in, spread with a white cloth and set; and around +it, very flushed and important, sat Florence, Bessie +Lane, Frances Hughes, and Edith Hillis’s little sister +Lucy. Before Frances, who was the oldest, sat a big +dish of creamed potatoes, a platter of Hamburg steak, +and in front of each girl steamed a bowl of tomato soup. +</p> +<p> +“Well, where——” began everybody. All the +small sisters answered at once. +</p> +<p> +“We cooked ’em on the gas-stove in the back +parlor!” +</p> +<p> +“All but the soup,” added conscientious little +blonde Lucy. “We dumped that out of a can.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we cooked it, too, didn’t we?” inquired +Frances. +</p> +<p> +“So that was what was in the package Puppums +wanted!” said Winona. “Where <em>is</em> Puppums, anyway?” +she added as she set down her scalloped meat. +</p> +<p> +“I d’no,” said Florence carelessly. +</p> +<p> +But just at that moment Puppums accounted for +himself. He came in from the direction of the half-open +back door, in his mouth a neatly done up package. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Oh!</em>” cried Winona and Florence in one despairing +voice, “he’s been stealing again! Drop it, you +little wretch!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan went around to Puppums, who was +proudly sitting up on his haunches over his spoils. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t ours,” she said, opening the bundle. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Winona. “I might as well +know the worst.” +</p> +<p> +“Chops,” answered Mrs. Bryan briefly. “Two +pounds of very nice lamb chops, with nothing at all +to tell where they belong!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Puppums!” said Winona and Florence together +tragically. The rest were all laughing but to +Puppums’s family it was far from a laughing matter. +</p> +<p> +Puppums Merriam was a splendid watch-dog. He +was sweet-tempered and intelligent and obedient and +cheerful, and everything a family dog should be. But +he had one fault. He would occasionally snoop around +back porches in search of anything the butcher might +have left. The fact that he got three good meals a +day, and was losing his figure far too fast for such a +young and sprightly dog did not matter to him at all. +Neither did he mind the fact that he got a good whipping +every time Tom caught him at it. Happy indeed +was the week wherein the Merriams did not have to +apologetically return roasts or steaks to furious +owners; or—if the condition of the prey made it +necessary—buy new ones. But this last did not happen +very often, for Puppums rarely brought home the bills +with him, and it is hard to trace anonymous meat. +</p> +<p> +So when he proudly presented his contribution to +the feast there was nothing to do but to pick up the +chops and put them away. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +</p> +<p> +“I can’t spoil the fun by whipping him, and he +always thinks my whippings are fun anyway, and wags +his tail!” mourned Winona. “And we’ll never know +whose chops they were!” +</p> +<p> +“They’re Puppums’s chops now,” said Louise. “Go +on, give ’em to him, Winnie. If you went out and +gathered chops you wouldn’t want to be scolded.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I suppose he may as well have them,” said +Winona still sadly. So, although it was very wrong, +and as she explained to the dog, it didn’t create a precedent, +soon the collector of chops was happily crunching +them outside the back door, while the Camp Fire Girls +ate made-over meat within. +</p> +<p> +“What about our camping out?” Louise demanded, +after the first pangs of appetite were over. +“What’s the use of being us if we can’t camp?” +</p> +<p> +“We <em>can</em> camp,” answered their Guardian as she +helped Helen to some more salad. “This is lovely +dressing, Adelaide. I didn’t know what good cooks +all of you were. I have been looking things up, and +I don’t see why we shouldn’t go in a short time now, if +all of your parents are willing and can spare you.” +</p> +<p> +There was a great commotion over at the table +where the Blue Birds sat, and then hurried whispers— +</p> +<p> +“You ask, Lucy.” +</p> +<p> +“No, you ask, Frances!” +</p> +<p> +Finally Florence spoke up. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t the Blue Birds go camping, too?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course they can!” said Mrs. Bryan cordially. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +“That is, just as with the Camp Fire Girls, +if their mothers are willing.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then I can go, if we take Frances,” said +Adelaide relievedly. “Father and Lonny can get along +all right by themselves, but Frances couldn’t. Oh, I’m +so glad!” Which was quite a good deal for reserved +Adelaide to say. +</p> +<p> +“So are we glad,” said Helen heartily. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder whether we couldn’t go to that place +up on the Wampoag River. Have you thought of +any place, Mrs. Bryan?” +</p> +<p> +“None but there or thereabouts,” she said. “It’s +the best camping-place for a long distance, and only +about twelve miles off.” +</p> +<p> +“But won’t the boys want to camp there, too?” +asked Helen. +</p> +<p> +“There’s plenty of room for everybody,” said her +step-mother. “I’ve been talking it over with Mr. +Gedney, the Scoutmaster, and he says their camp will +be about two and a half miles from the place I’d thought +of our going. Wampoag River is very long, you know, +and there must be five miles of woodland along both +sides. So we needn’t interfere with each other at all.” +</p> +<p> +“Then that’s all right,” said everybody. +</p> +<p> +“And oh, let’s hike there!” cried Louise. “We +can do it in two days as easily as anything. Please, +dear, nice, kind Guardian, let us hike there!” +</p> +<p> +“I think it would be a very good thing to do,” +approved Mrs. Bryan. “But it isn’t for me to settle. +You’ll have to have a business meeting to decide that, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +and to decide another thing that nobody’s thought of.” +</p> +<p> +“Ways and means?” ventured Adelaide, perhaps +because they had been in her mind, too. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly,” said Mrs. Bryan. “We haven’t +enough in the treasury to pay expenses, even if we +only stay a little while. It’s for you all to decide +whether you want to get the money from your parents +for the provisions, or whether you will earn it.” +</p> +<p> +“Earn it?” asked Winona, “How could we, in +such a little while?” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll have to work that out yourselves,” replied +Mrs. Bryan, as she usually did. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can’t ask dad for <em>much</em> money,” Louise +frankly confessed. “Times are hard, and me poor +father needs his gold for the lit-tul ones at home!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, of course it’s premature,” hesitated Helen, +looking up, “because the rest aren’t here.” +</p> +<p> +“Go on, anyway,” said the others eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have a bread +and cake and preserve sale,” she went on. “I’m treasurer, +you know, and I’m sure we have enough money +on hand for materials. People will buy things to eat +when they won’t buy anything else. I’m sure, too, that +we could get Black’s drug-store to sell in.” +</p> +<p> +“We’d need more than one cake-sale, wouldn’t +we?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“We could have two—or even four!” asserted +Louise boldly. “We needn’t go for two weeks yet, +anyway. It will only be the last of July then. We +could have sales Wednesdays and Saturdays.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +</p> +<p> +“And get orders beforehand, and make what people +want!” said Louise, “Oh, I’d love to do that!” +</p> +<p> +“Will it cost much?” asked Adelaide. +</p> +<p> +“The sale?” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“No, the trip.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a good deal,” said Mrs. Bryan. “We have +the land free, of course. We shall have to buy tents—let +me see, there are twelve in the Camp Fire, aren’t +there? And there will be six or eight Blue Birds. +We’ll need ten tents, and then there’ll be the provisions. +What they cost will depend on how long you decide +to stay. If you hike there and back there won’t +be any railroad fare. As for clothes, you’ll need blouses +and dark skirts or bloomers, and tennis shoes—but all +that can wait till the business meeting. Marie is secretary—she +and Edith and Dorothy and Anna Morris +are going to be here getting luncheon to-morrow. +There had better be a meeting here to-morrow afternoon. +I’ll telephone Marie after supper.” +</p> +<p> +Eight very happy girls of assorted sizes cleared +away the supper and washed the dishes and made the +kitchen shine. Even Puppums, bulging with contraband +chops, was more amiable than usual, and slept +placidly in all the places where he was most in the way. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to take my banjo,” planned Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I shall take pounds and pounds of modelling +clay,” said Helen enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +“Edith has a mandolin,” volunteered Lucy Hillis. +</p> +<p> +“Everybody that has a musical instrument had +better bring it,” said Mrs. Bryan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +</p> +<p> +“We’ll contribute a very fine dog with a stunning +howl!” said Winona mischievously. +</p> +<p> +“That dog isn’t a musical instrument, he’s a +famine-breeder!” said Louise; then paused, for Mrs. +Bryan went into the dining-room to telephone Marie +Hunter. Edith Hillis was at Marie’s, and both girls +were as excited over the cake-sale idea as the rest. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Next afternoon the whole Camp Fire had a business +meeting at Mrs. Bryan’s. Besides the girls who +had originally belonged, five others had joined. It +was a very pleasant meeting, helped out with afternoon +cocoa and sandwiches that the lunch-getters had prepared. +They discussed ways and means till they could +scarcely hear themselves think. Never was there such +an unanimous meeting. For everybody wanted to go +camping, and to go camping money is needed. So +three committees were appointed, one to buy materials, +another to borrow an eligible drug-store for Saturday, +and a third to attend to advertising. The girls were +to meet Friday, and each take home what materials +she needed. Saturday morning the materials were to +be returned to the drug-store in the shape of salable +things to eat. It even occurred to one genius to allot +to each girl a certain thing to make. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a good thing to do,” she said modestly—it was +Dorothy. “Once our Sunday-school class gave a sale, +and every single girl brought chocolate cake.” +</p> +<p> +“I remember that,” said Marie. “But it turned +out all right.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Dorothy laughing. “We hung +a sign in the window, ‘Chocolate cake sale!’ and it all +went. But it mightn’t have!” +</p> +<p> +So Marie made out a careful list of what each +girl was to make. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see how we’ll ever sell all those!” she +said, looking worried. +</p> +<p> +But they did. People always will buy bread and +cake and muffins. At the end of the first sale, on +Saturday, Edith Hillis, who was on duty, put seventeen +dollars in her hand-bag to take up to Helen. +</p> +<p> +“There are orders, too,” she reported. “We have +eight dozen parkerhouse rolls and two dozen and a half +biscuits promised for different lunches and suppers +next week, beside jam orders. Here’s the list.” +</p> +<p> +“That ought to be five dollars more,” counted +Helen. +</p> +<p> +Edith forgot for once to smooth her dress and +pat her curls in the excitement of success. +</p> +<p> +“Three more as good and we’ll have all the money +we need!” she declared. +</p> +<p> +And, as a matter of fact, the three following sales +were better than the first. Adelaide developed a real +talent for jelly-making, and the orders for that alone +helped a good deal. At the crowning sale, the next +one to the last, they made twenty-one dollars, and eighteen +and nineteen at the other two. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan went off to the city to buy tents, and +was understood to have come back with ten that were +marvellous bargains. The Camp Fire darned all its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +stockings, and tidied itself, and was collectively very +good at home, so as to leave a pleasant last impression. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam lamented that she was going to +be very, very lonely, for Tom was going out camping +with the Scouts only a day or so later than Winona +and Florence were to go with Camp Karonya. As for +Puppums, there were many arguments about him, for +Tom thought he would make a fine mascot, and so did +Winona and Florence. It was finally settled by the +fact that another of the Scouts owned a collie and was +going to take him; and Puppums, while he was a +friendly dog in the main, and indeed had quite a social +circle of his own, bit collies whenever he saw them. So +there were bound to be fights if Puppums went with +Tom, and it was decided that the girls should have him. +</p> +<p> +Nobody thought there were going to be any more +members added to the Camp. But one afternoon, +while Winona was out in her back garden with Louise +and Helen and a medicine ball, Nataly Lee from next +door came calling. The three girls were dusty and +tousled; Helen’s braid was half-undone, the ribbon +was off Winona’s curls, and Louise, who had just fallen +full-length across the nasturtiums in a vain effort to +get the ball, had a streak of mould and grass-stain +from her shoulder to the hem of her skirt. Altogether, +they were as badly mussed a trio as you could wish +to see, when Tom came out the back door toward them. +</p> +<p> +He said nothing whatever, but he bore high in his +hand the very largest tray the house afforded, and in +its black and banged centre reposed a small calling-card +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +which said “Miss Nataly Lee. The Cedars.” He +made a low bow, and held the tray toward his sister. +</p> +<p> +Winona took off the card, and the three girls +looked at it together. +</p> +<p> +“Where do you suppose she keeps the cedars?” +asked Louise in a stage whisper. “There aren’t any +next door.” +</p> +<p> +“Sh-h. That must be her ancestral estate,” surmised +Helen respectfully. “Oh, dear, Winnie, I can’t +go in this way, to a call that has a card and all that!” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you can,” said Winona cheerfully. +“I did worse than that when I went calling on <em>her</em>. +I didn’t take any card at all. To be frank with you, +I haven’t any. Anyway, she received me with her +wrapper on, and that’s no better than grass-stains.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on—be sports!” urged Tom, waving his +tray. “I think she’s come to say that she’s willing +to be welcomed in your midst.” +</p> +<p> +“How do you know?” asked all three girls at once. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know—I only think so, because Billy told +me,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“We certainly look dreadful!” mourned Helen, but +they all brushed each other off and straightened each +other, and trotted into the house. +</p> +<p> +Nataly did not look as if she had ever seen a +negligee. She had on white gloves and a veil, and +carried a card-case, and altogether, except that her hair +was down and her skirt short, she might very well +have been grown up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s a charming day,” she began when she had +been introduced to Helen and Louise. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is,” agreed Louise, “and a lot too +nice to stay in the house. Don’t you want to come on +out in the back yard with us and play ball?” +</p> +<p> +But Nataly declined. She said she didn’t think it +would be good for her gloves. +</p> +<p> +Then there was a pause, because nobody could think +of anything to say. Finally Winona began: +</p> +<p> +“Tom says you think you might like to join our +Camp Fire, after all. Do you think you would?” +</p> +<p> +Nataly looked as if she was about to take a dreadful +plunge, but she said, “Yes, I believe I would like +to. The doctor says I ought to be out in the open +air, and you are, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“We certainly are!” said Louise. “That’s where +we were when you came to call. Want to come?” +</p> +<p> +Louise was visibly fretting at having to stay indoors, +and finally Winona had to lead the way out to +the back garden again. And, naturally, the first thing +to meet their eyes was the big black tray, with Nataly’s +own card fatally conspicuous in the very middle of it. +Winona tried to steer her around it, but it was no use. +Your own name is one thing you are sure to see or +hear before anything else. Winona, talking sixteen +to the dozen about everything she could think of, picked +up the card furtively and put it in her pocket. Unfortunately +it wasn’t possible to pocket the tray. +</p> +<p> +However, they arranged with Nataly that she go +camping with them. She could not join till the next +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +monthly ceremonial meeting, but there was to be one +soon after camp was pitched. So it was settled. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder who she’ll be friends with specially?” +said Helen after she had gone. “She doesn’t seem to +fit into us, somehow.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have to make her fit,” said Winona gayly. +“To tell you the truth Helen, she reminds me of a +kitten I knew once. It belonged to three old maiden +ladies. It didn’t know how to be a kitten at all—the +poor little thing thought it was a cat!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, perhaps Nataly’ll turn out a kitten, but I +doubt it, even with you helping,” said Louise. “Come +on, let’s finish our game.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span>CHAPTER TEN</h2> +<p> +As the clock struck eight-thirty Monday morning, +on the last week in July, one Guardian, one dog, thirteen +big girls and seven small ones lined up for their +long-anticipated hike to Camp Karonya. They +planned to walk half the distance that day, sleep at a +farmhouse about half-way to the woods, and finish +the next day at their destination. They were all in +middies, with dark skirts, and the most comfortable +slippers money could buy—it hurts to hike in tight +shoes. They had hats, of course, but Edith Hillis, in +addition, carried a parasol. Each girl carried her own +night-things and drinking-cup and luncheon. The provisions, +and the rest of the baggage, had gone over to +the camping-place in Mr. Bryan’s automobile and +Louise Lane’s father’s delivery-wagon. +</p> +<p> +Early as it was, quite a lot of people were out to +see the girls off, and even Puppums curvetted proudly +as he noticed the attention he was getting, for he was +a very vain dog. He might well be vain, because Louise +had attached a large label to his collar which said +“Camp Fire Dog,” and he was not allowed to chew +it off. +</p> +<p> +They walked slowly, and it felt very much like +going to a picnic guaranteed to last forever. Presently +someone started a marching song, and everyone joined +in. They walked easily on, having a very good time as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +they went; and before they knew it noon had come, +and it was time to have lunch. +</p> +<p> +They were near a meadow by this time, a big green +meadow with trees at its edge, and they all sat down +under the trees and unpacked their sandwiches and +ate. Some of the girls had thermos bottles with them, +with hot cocoa, but most of them preferred the concentrated +lemonade Mrs. Bryan had brought along, +mixed with water from a nice little brook which had +been kind enough to flow quite near them. +</p> +<p> +“If it’s all going to be like this, won’t it be lovely?” +said Winona, her eyes shining, as she took a large bite +of sandwich, and then fed a generous share of the +rest to Puppums, who lay quiveringly near her. +</p> +<p> +“It is nice,” said Helen more quietly. “I hope +we’ll have weather like this the whole time ... +gracious, what’s that?” +</p> +<p> +“That” was a distant squeal. Winona looked +hastily around her to see what the Blue Birds were +doing. But there were no Blue Birds there. The seven +little girls were out of sight, but not out of hearing, for +it was evidently one of them who had made the noise. +</p> +<p> +Winona and Adelaide jumped up and ran, but +Louise and Edith sat placidly on. +</p> +<p> +“They <em>will</em> howl,” said Louise. “There’s no use +always chasing after them.” +</p> +<p> +But when Winona and Adelaide arrived at the place +the squeals had come from they were very glad they +had done the “chasing.” +</p> +<p> +Florence, with little Lucy Hillis holding her, was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +sitting on the ground screaming steadily. The other +girls were huddled together in a frightened group a +little way off. +</p> +<p> +“What is it? What is it, Lucy?” cried Winona, +frightened. Florence was making such a noise that it +was no use asking her. Lucy Hillis, who was one of +those quiet, old-fashioned little girls who always keep +their heads, looked up, still holding Florence’s wrist. +</p> +<p> +“Florence’s cut herself,” she said. “I’m afraid +it’s a bad cut. I don’t dare let go of it.” +</p> +<p> +Winona flung herself down by Florence and put +her hands above Lucy’s shaking little ones, which then, +and not till then, let go. +</p> +<p> +“Get me a stick, Lucy, quick—a strong one!” she +said. +</p> +<p> +Lucy was back with the stick before Winona was +through speaking. Winona pulled off her tie, that +useful silk scarf of hers which had helped Edith out of +the water, and bound it above Florence’s cut, twisting +it tight with the stick. Then she asked Adelaide to +tie Florence’s wrist again, below the cut. She did not +want to take any chances, and she did not know yet +whether it was a vein or an artery that Florence had +hurt. +</p> +<p> +Then she sent Lucy flying for Mrs. Bryan, while +she and Adelaide made Florence keep still. +</p> +<p> +“That Lucy child keeps her head,” said Adelaide +approvingly. +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t <em>her</em> wrist that got cut!” said Florence +indignantly, stopping her sobs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +</p> +<p> +“How did it happen, Florence?” asked her sister. +“Tell us—but don’t stir. Nobody knows what will +happen if your wrist starts bleeding again.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we were being Indian chiefs,” began Florence, +“an’—an’ I was out on the warpath, going to +scalp Molly Green. And I ran, and Molly ran, an’ +I fell over a tree-root and the knife cut my wrist.” +</p> +<p> +“The knife!” said Winona, for nobody had mentioned +a knife before. “Where did you get a knife?” +</p> +<p> +Florence hung her head. +</p> +<p> +“I—I borrowed your penknife out of your knapsack +when you laid it on the grass to get lunch out +of it.” +</p> +<p> +“The knife? I didn’t.” +</p> +<p> +“No; the knapsack,” said Florence meekly. “An’—an’ +oh, <em>dear</em> sister, I’m so sorry!” +</p> +<p> +Winona could scarcely help laughing, worried as +she was. When Florence had been naughty she always +became suddenly very affectionate. At other times she +wasn’t, especially. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sorry, too,” she said gravely. “I don’t know +what Mrs. Bryan will say to you, nor mother, when +she hears about it.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me see,” said Mrs. Bryan behind them. She +had hurried over at Lucy’s summons. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, is it—is it an artery?” breathed Winona, +as Mrs. Bryan bent over the wounded arm. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan laughed. “Nothing of the sort, you +foolish child,” she said. “It’s only a deep cut. It +didn’t even strike a large vein.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m <em>so</em> glad!” said Winona, drawing a long +breath. +</p> +<p> +She ran off to get her First Aid kit out of her knapsack, +and, coming back, presently had Florence bandaged +up scientifically, and much impressed with the +importance of what she had done. +</p> +<p> +“Will I have to be carried on a stretcher?” the +little girl wanted to know. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it,” said Mrs. Bryan briskly. “You +will have to walk on your own two feet, like any other +naughty little girl.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, was I naughty?” said Florence cheerfully. +“I forgot that!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” answered Mrs. Bryan, “you were very +naughty. I think we shall have to confine you to camp +for two days, when we get there.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Florence complacently, “but now +please can’t I be carried on a stretcher? I should think +I might!” +</p> +<p> +“All right, let’s,” said Louise, who had come up +along with the rest of the girls, in Mrs. Bryan’s wake. +“Only remember, Florence Merriam, once you get up +on that stretcher you have to stay there.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course!” said Florence indignantly. +</p> +<p> +By this time all the girls were clustered about the +interesting invalid, and the stretcher idea struck them +all as a very fine one. It would help them to put the +Wood Craft they had been learning into practice. +Winona picked up her gory penknife, and began to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +wash it in the brook before she started to cut wood +with it. +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” said Florence plaintively, “I thought you’d +always keep it that way, to remember me by!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll have chance enough to remember you without +that,” replied Winona feelingly, and went off to +look for poles with the others. Edith Hillis pulled her +embroidery out of her knapsack and mounted guard +over the Blue Birds, who were, however, a rather +subdued flock by now. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the rest of the girls picked out four saplings +which grew at the edge of the wood beyond the +meadow, and nicked them at the bottom patiently till +they fell. The next thing was to tie them together. +But nobody had anything to do it with, till Mrs. Bryan +remembered a bunch of leather thongs she carried. +</p> +<p> +“I always have at least two along for extra shoe-laces, +when I’m camping,” she explained, “and they +always come in use for something else before the time +is over. An old guide up in the Adirondacks told me +to do that, and it’s always a good thing for campers +to do.” +</p> +<p> +The thongs bound the saplings into a frame, and +Louise secured them to a knot that was newly learned, +and the pride of her life. +</p> +<p> +“That can’t come out,” she said, surveying it with +pleasure, for learning to do it had earned her a much-valued +bead. +</p> +<p> +For the covering of the stretcher Adelaide produced +an old gray shawl from her knapsack. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +</p> +<p> +“Father made me bring it,” she explained rather +shamefacedly. +</p> +<p> +“Just the thing!” said Mrs. Bryan heartily. +</p> +<p> +They wrapped it round the frame, and it went +around three times, being large, so that a couple of +pins held it fast. Then they lifted the gratified Florence +on to it and started off down the road again. They +had cleared up the fragments of their luncheon first, +and buried neatly all the scraps and debris, so that +there were no excursiony-looking boxes and crusts littering +their resting-place. +</p> +<p> +The girls took turns carrying the stretcher, and +as there were fourteen of them, counting Mrs. Bryan, +many hands made light work. As Louise had prophesied +would happen, after a little while Florence +became restless. The other Blue Birds were having +lovely times frolicking all over the road, chasing butterflies +and picking flowers and playing with the dog. +Florence found it rather stupid to sit in solitary grandeur +on a stretcher, and listen to what Winona and +Adelaide, before her, and Marie and Edith, behind +her, were saying about their own affairs. So at the +first stop to change bearers she wanted to get down. +But Mrs. Bryan was firm. +</p> +<p> +“No, indeed,” she said, “the first thing Blue Birds +must learn is to obey orders and keep promises. You +promised to stay up there till evening, Florence, and +you must do it.” +</p> +<p> +Florence pouted, but she stayed. She really had +lost quite a little blood in her adventure with her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +sister’s penknife, and, though Mrs. Bryan did not tell +her so, the walk might have been too much for her. She +wriggled and yawned, and once sat up straight, till her +bearers requested her to lie still. But presently she +had a companion in misery. +</p> +<p> +It was nearly the end of the journey, and the farmhouse +where the girls planned to stay the night was +in sight. Winona, strolling on ahead, saw a small +gray kitten prowling along the side of the road. It +was a most unhappy kitten; it looked as if it hadn’t had +a square meal since it could remember, and there was +an ugly-looking place on its side as if something had +worried it. It limped a little, too, poor little cat, and +altogether a more forlorn animal would have been hard +to find. But Winona pounced on it. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you poor little cat!” she cried. “Look, +Helen, some horrid dog has hurt it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t pick it up!” said Marie. “It may have +something awful.” +</p> +<p> +“Smallpox, maybe?” inquired Winona sarcastically. +“Nonsense, Marie, the poor little thing’s been +worried by a dog, and it hasn’t had enough to eat, that’s +all. I’m going to adopt it.” +</p> +<p> +And in spite of Marie’s protests she picked it up +and wrapped it in her handkerchief, and carried it back +to Florence, who was wriggling on her stretcher, and +wishing that she hadn’t demanded that evidence of +invalidism. +</p> +<p> +“Here, Florence,” said Winona, “hold this kitty +till we get to the farmhouse.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, a kitty! Poor little thing!” cried Florence, +adopting the cat on the spot, and letting it cuddle down +by her, which it was willing enough to do, for it +seemed to be as tired as it was hungry. +</p> +<p> +“Are you sure——” began Marie again. +</p> +<p> +Marie’s father was a professor in the high-school, +and as a result she knew about more kinds of germs +than the rest had ever heard of. +</p> +<p> +“Mother lets us bring in hurt animals, always, and +look after them,” said Winona. “Germs can’t get you +if you’re careful. We can wash our hands in disinfectant +as soon as we get to the farmhouse. I have +some in my first-aid kit.” +</p> +<p> +“And what are you going to do with the cat?” +asked Louise, coming up to the other side of the +stretcher and surveying the much-discussed animal +without great affection. +</p> +<p> +“Keep it, if Mrs. Bryan doesn’t mind, as it doesn’t +belong to anyone,” said Winona coolly. “It ought to +make a good camp mascot.” +</p> +<p> +Louise eyed the kitten again—they were nearly at +the farmhouse by this time. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t exactly my idea of a mascot,” she said +candidly. “What about Puppums? I thought he was +elected to the position.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, the kitty can be the under-mascot,” +said Winona undauntedly. “Anyway, when I get +through nursing her she’ll be a perfectly good cat—see +if she isn’t!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +</p> +<p> +“I doubt it!” said Louise and Marie together, as +if they had been practising a duet. +</p> +<p> +“Wait!” said Winona as they mounted the steps. +</p> +<p> +There were plenty of rooms, for the farm people +took boarders all August; but even so, there were not +enough for nearly twenty people. However, Mrs. +Norris, the farmer’s wife, had been prepared beforehand +for the descent, and she had extra cots made up +and ready in all the rooms, and unlimited hot water +for baths. +</p> +<p> +Winona did not come in when the others did. She +sat down on the porch floor, pulled out her first-aid +kit for the second time that day, sent Florence in for a +basin of warm water, and set about doctoring the kitten. +She sponged off the torn place in its side, and +the little hurt in one of its hind legs that had made it +limp. This last was only a scratch, but it had stiffened. +She rubbed salve in the hurt places. Then she bandaged +the cat’s leg very successfully. But when it +came to tying up the side—for the cat would certainly +have licked the salve off if she could—it wasn’t so +simple. There wasn’t anything to fasten the bandage +to. Finally she wound it round and round the meek +little animal, and sewed it up on top. The cat looked +as if it had on a large and fashionable sash, but it did +not object. Then Winona gave it some evaporated +cream out of a can in her knapsack, watched it while it +ate, which it did till the belt tightened dangerously, +and took it into the house with her. Florence took the +basin back to the place she had gotten it from. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +</p> +<p> +“Does this kitten belong to you?” Winona asked +the landlady, who was hurrying about a long table in +the dining-room, putting dishes full of steaming things +on the table. +</p> +<p> +“Bless my soul, no!” she answered, stopping with a +pan of baked beans poised in mid-air. “Why, I do +believe that’s the kitten that belonged to Medarys, +down the road, and they moved away last week. Well, +poor little thing, the dogs must have got after it. It’s +a mercy it got away at all.” +</p> +<p> +“People who abandon cats that way ought to be +left out in a wilderness themselves, without anything +to eat,” said Mrs. Bryan warmly, as she came up behind +them. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t it so?” said the landlady. “I’ll get somebody +to drown the poor little thing to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no! I’ll keep it if it’s nobody’s,” Winona +said eagerly. “You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Bryan?” +</p> +<p> +“If it hasn’t mange,” said Mrs. Bryan prudently. +</p> +<p> +“It hasn’t,” Winona and Florence assured her +together. “It’s only hurt.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said the Guardian; and the Merriams +ran off to wash their hands in disinfectant and +straighten themselves generally for supper. They left +the cat in their room. +</p> +<p> +That certainly was a supper. When you have +walked all day in the open you feel as if you could eat +a house, if nothing tenderer offers itself. Even +Nataly Lee, who was genuinely tired to death, was +hungry. The girls stood behind their chairs for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +moment, saying one of the Camp Fire graces softly in +unison. Then they sat down, and ate as if lunch had +been only a dream. +</p> +<p> +After supper the hostess showed them her long +parlor and invited them to make themselves at home. +But they were all too sleepy to frolic. Louise, who +was untirable, did indeed unsling her banjo from across +her shoulder and try to sing, but she interrupted herself +in the middle of “Nellie Gray” with a gigantic yawn. +The Blue Birds were all asleep in their chairs, and had +to be marched off to bed half conscious. It was only +eight, but the elder sisters and cousins who took them +up liked the looks of the white cots very much, and—well, +it seemed so useless to go downstairs again, some +way. So Winona and Adelaide and Louise and Elizabeth, +and Marie, who was looking after such Blue +Birds as had not sisters along, simply went to bed, too, +when they had attended to their charges. The other +girls sat sleepily downstairs for awhile, waiting for +their friends to come back. And then they, too, came +upstairs and went to bed—and by eight-thirty there was +nothing to be heard of seven Blue Birds, thirteen Camp +Fire Girls, a dog and a cat, but twenty even breathings +from as many cots, an occasional snore from the back +porch where Puppums was tied, and a loud, ecstatic +purr from the corner of Winona’s cot, where the +Medary’s late kitten was privately spending the night. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> +<p> +Next morning by eight Camp Karonya was up and +eating a large breakfast. The girls sang a cheer to +Mrs. Norris when they were done, and formed for +their march again. Most of them had brought enough +food for two lunches, but Mrs. Norris could not be +brought to think so, and insisted on piling up provisions +enough for a regiment. They compromised, +on several slices of roast lamb apiece, and enough +bread and butter to go around and leave some over. +</p> +<p> +Winona slipped into the little general store near +the farmhouse, and bargained for some more cans of +evaporated milk for her under-mascot, the kitten. It +was travelling in Florence’s knapsack to-day, and +Florence’s things were distributed between Winona +and two of the other girls. It proved to be a very +frisky kitten by nature, now that its fears of being +hungry and homeless were gone. Winona had to sew +its bandage on again at noon. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know how it is,” she said perplexedly. +“It’s certainly a fatter kitten, and yet its bandage is +too big!” +</p> +<p> +“Poor thing! Take it off altogether!” advised +Helen. “Pussy will get well just as soon without it.” +</p> +<p> +So they ripped off the bandage, and the kitten +seemed very grateful. Its hurt looked like scarcely +more than a scratch now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +</p> +<p> +“If she’s going to be a camp mascot she ought to +have a name,” suggested Florence. +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed. “I’m going to call her Hike,” +she said. “She was hiking when we met her, poor +pussy, and so were we.” +</p> +<p> +So Hike the Camp Cat she became. And—to anticipate—when +she had been living on evaporated cream +and other luxuries a few days, she turned into a plump +and handsome Maltese kitten with charming manners. +</p> +<p> +The girls arrived at their camping-place at about +five that day. The big limousine that belonged to +Helen’s father, and the big electric delivery wagon +which Louise’s father had contributed, stood waiting +for them on the road nearest the clearing in the woods, +where they were to make their camp. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to say we’re going to eat all that?” +asked Edith Hillis helplessly, as she caught sight of +the piled provisions in the delivery wagon. +</p> +<p> +“Well, we shan’t have to eat the tents and cots +in the limousine,” said Winona. “At least, I hope not. +But I think we will manage the rest. I was on the committee +that figured out how much we would want for +three weeks of camping, and I’m sure there’s no more +here than we ordered.” +</p> +<p> +“I have the list,” said Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Then check the things off, dear, as the men lift +them out,” said Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +So Helen read from her list as the barrels and +boxes were carried away, and the girls listened in awe, +for this is what she read: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +</p> +<p> + One and a half barrels of flour.<br /> + Fifteen pounds shortening.<br /> +</p> +<p> +(“It’s a special kind,” explained Helen. “You +can use it for cakes, as well as frying and other things.”) +</p> +<p> + Fifteen pounds rice.<br /> + Fifteen pounds beans.<br /> + Five pounds baking-powder.<br /> + Three sides of bacon.<br /> + Sixty-five pounds of sugar.<br /> + Ten pounds of cocoa.<br /> + Case and a half of evaporated milk.<br /> +</p> +<p> +(“And the extra cans Winnie bought to support +the cat on,” interrupted Louise. “We can steal those +if the worst comes to the worst.”) +</p> +<p> + Two barrels of potatoes.<br /> + Six jugs of molasses.<br /> + One dozen cans each peas and corn.<br /> + Eight pounds of salt pork.<br /> +</p> +<p> +“All present and accounted for,” said Mrs. Bryan, +as the men who had been loaned with the wagon rolled +the barrels and carried the boxes off to a little tarred +shack near the spring. “We’ll have to buy butter and +eggs and fresh fruit and vegetables as we go along. +They’ll keep in the spring, for it seems to be ice-cold.” +</p> +<p> +“And did just things to eat for us cost all that +beautiful eighty dollars we made at all the cake-sales?” +asked Florence indignantly. She had helped make +fudge for those sales, and she felt as if they had been +her personal venture. +</p> +<p> +“It came to about fifty-five dollars, wholesale,” +said Helen, looking down at the itemized list she held. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +“We figured out that the other thirty dollars would +just about keep us in the green things and dairy things +we had to have. The corn and peas are in case we’re +weatherbound and can’t get fresh vegetables.” +</p> +<p> +“And how long did you say we could live on that +perfect mountain of food?” inquired Nataly Lee’s +mournful voice from where she was lying on the grass +with her knapsack under her head. +</p> +<p> +“Three weeks, no more,” said Helen briskly. “If +we want to stay we shall have to earn more money.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we could,” mused Winona thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“But what about the tents?” asked Elizabeth +curiously. She was a quiet, competent little thing. +“I don’t see where the money for them comes in.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the most splendid thing of all,” smiled +Mrs. Bryan, as the men began to slide ten dusty-looking +tents out of the wagon. “Mr. Gedney, the +Scoutmaster, called up Mr. Bryan just before I was +going shopping for tents, and told me about these in +case we wanted them. They belonged to the National +Guard, and the State had condemned them, because +they were shabbier than some politician or other liked +them to be. So the Scouts were offered them at a +ridiculously low price, if they would only take enough. +Rather than let such a bargain go by the Scouts took +them all, though there were more than they needed. +And Mr. Gedney says we may use these, and needn’t +pay for them till next winter.” +</p> +<p> +The girls agreed that it certainly was luck, and +followed on down to see the tents put up—ten little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +brown tents in a row, with two cots and a box-dressing-table +in each. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll have to stow your clothes underneath +the cots,” explained Mrs. Bryan. “And I expect each +of you to learn how to put up and take down her own +tent.” +</p> +<p> +“Beads!” exploded Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly,” said Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +“We only have extra under-things,” said Marie, +“and one dress-up frock apiece, besides our camp +clothes and ceremonial dresses. We don’t need much +room.” +</p> +<p> +By the time the tents had been assigned and the cots +made up, supper was ready, and Mrs. Bryan summoned +them to it by blowing a clear little whistle she wore. +The girls had expected to turn to and get their own +supper. So they were very much surprised to find +Mrs. Bryan’s black maid Grace, and Mrs. Hunter’s +Jenny smiling behind the long trestles in the mess-tent, +setting steaming dishes up and down the table. +</p> +<p> +“This is a special treat,” explained Mrs. Bryan. +“We’re all tired to-night, and we hadn’t time to do any +cooking ourselves anyway, so I let Grace and Jenny do +it. But to-morrow morning camp life begins. We’ll +draw lots for assignment to duties, after supper.” +</p> +<p> +The girls stood up behind their seats for a moment +and said grace, then sat down, and ate as if they had +never seen food before. It was a very civilized meal, +soup, roasts and dessert, all sent over by the mothers +in the tonneau of the Bryan car, as the cooks and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +provisions had been. It tasted good, but everyone +looked forward with joy to real camp cooking. +</p> +<p> +“Wait till you see how I can broil venison steak,” +threatened Louise, as she ate a very large helping of +despised roast beef from a mere unromantic cow. +</p> +<p> +“Where’ll you get the venison? Pick it?” called +back Winona from the other side of the table. +</p> +<p> +“No, she’s going to grow it!” said Elizabeth. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind!” said Louise cheerfully. +“All you do is to go out with a gun, and stalk till you +find a magnificent moose feeding peacefully among the +underbrush.” +</p> +<p> +“Suppose there isn’t any underbrush?” inquired +Edith’s languid voice from the table’s other end. +</p> +<p> +“Then you carry some out with you and scatter it +around for the deer to eat out of,” said Louise undisturbed. +“Don’t interrupt the lesson on natural history, +please. You stand, moved by the beauty of the +sight, for a long time. Then, recalled to yourself +by the thought of the seven starving little Blue Birds +at home, you draw your revolver to your shoulder and +are about to fire.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure it’s a revolver?” asked Winona skeptically. +</p> +<p> +“Well, your pistol, then—they’re all the same thing. +Just then the moose lifts his head and looks at you +mournfully out of his large, deer-like eyes. You almost +relent. But you nerve yourself and fire—one crashing +shot between the eyes. Then you throw the moose +across your shoulders and carry it home—and there’s +your venison steak.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +</p> +<p> +“It sounds more like a venison mis-steak to me,” +said Winona. “I suppose you’re going hunting to-morrow +morning, Louise?” +</p> +<p> +But Louise had just arrived at her dessert. +</p> +<p> +“I scorn to reply,” was all she said as she retired +into her ice-cream. +</p> +<p> +After supper the girls lay about on the grass, while +Winona and Marie and Mrs. Bryan put slips of paper +in a double boiler. The girls drew lots to decide which +should be camp cooks and camp orderlies for the first +week: four for the cooking, four for buying provisions +and policing the camp, and four for the dish-washing +and preparing vegetables. +</p> +<p> +“That leaves one girl over,” spoke up Adelaide, +sitting up under a tree. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan shook her head. “No,” she said, “it +doesn’t, because somebody has to look after the Blue +Birds every week. I’m going to appoint Marie Hunter, +because she hasn’t any small sisters, and it won’t be +such an old story to her to look after little girls. So +there are just enough people to go around. Rise up +and draw lots out of the boiler, girls!” +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather wash every dish in camp than chaperon +the infants!” said Louise aside; and drew a slip marked +“Dish-Washing” on the spot. “If I got all my +wishes as quickly as that, how nice it would be!” she +sighed, and lay down with her arm around little Bessie. +Louise had not a passion for washing dishes. +</p> +<p> +Then Adelaide drew a cooking slip. So did +Winona and Elizabeth and Lilian Brown, one of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +girls who had joined later. Anna Morris, Dorothy +Gray and Edith Hillis drew the other dish-washing slips +and Helen Bryan, Nataly Lee, Gladys Williams and +the other Brown sister, Gertrude, were assigned the +police and provision duty. At the end of the week +everybody was to shift to something else. +</p> +<p> +“It seems to me the camp orderlies have the best of +it,” said Helen, yawning. “What do we do, Nannie?” +</p> +<p> +“You see that everyone remembers to make up her +bed in the morning, you sweep out the camp, carry +water from the spring. You have to see, too, that the +camp is kept in fruit and vegetables—in other words, +walk to a farmhouse about a mile away every other +day to buy provisions. We mustn’t break into our +canned goods except in an emergency. You are really +the people who are responsible for the camp’s running +smoothly.” +</p> +<p> +“Carry water!” said Nataly with a gasp. “Won’t +we get our clothes wet?” +</p> +<p> +“Wear a waterproof, love,” said Louise. “I’m +going to ask to have Nataly assigned to bring me all +my water for dishes,” she whispered to Winona, beside +her. “I’m sure it will have an elevating effect on her +character.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t, Louise!” whispered Winona back. +“Suppose you’d spent your young life on a sofa, +reading ‘Beautiful Coralie’s Doom,’ you wouldn’t feel +able to carry water either!” +</p> +<p> +“Then I wouldn’t go Camp Firing,” said Louise +conclusively. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +</p> +<p> +Next morning the camp cooks were up at six. +Breakfast was to be at seven-thirty, but the girls were +so afraid of being too late that they devised an elaborate +system of strings, whereby the earliest awake was +to jerk her strings, and wake all the others. Winona, +Lilian Brown and Elizabeth were on the ground by a +quarter past six, but, although they had all jerked +their strings faithfully, no Adelaide appeared. Finally +they descended in a body on the tent which held +Adelaide and her little sister Frances. +</p> +<p> +“Well, would you look at that!” said Winona in +an indignant whisper. +</p> +<p> +The other girls cautiously lifted the tent-flap and +stuck in their heads. +</p> +<p> +Frances slept placidly on one cot, her little freckled +face half buried in the pillow. On the other, quite +as fast asleep, lay Adelaide—and there was not a string +tied to her anywhere! +</p> +<p> +“Well, if that isn’t the <em>limit</em>!” said Elizabeth and +Lilian in one breath, and Elizabeth reached down to +the pail of water which the orderlies had faithfully +set outside each tent door before they went to bed. +She tilted the cold water on her handkerchief, and +dropped it wetly on Adelaide’s face. It wasn’t a wet +sponge, but it did nearly as well, as an awakener. +</p> +<p> +“What—where—nonsense, Lonny, <em>don’t</em>!” said +Adelaide, waving her arms, and finally sitting up. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t Lonny; it’s us,” said Winona coldly, +“and why on earth did you untie the strings, when all +the rest of us had them to get up by?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +</p> +<p> +Adelaide looked ashamed. +</p> +<p> +“I couldn’t sleep all tied up that way,” she confessed. +“I felt like a spider or a fly or something. +So I tied them on the cot. But I thought when you +pulled them the cot would jar, and wake me!” +</p> +<p> +“It might have,” said Winona, “if you’d tied +them on your own cot!” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide, looking in the direction of Winona’s +pointing finger, found out why she had not wakened. +In her sleepiness the night before, she had fastened +her strings to a large twig that grew out of the ground +beside her bed! +</p> +<p> +“I ought to be drowned!” said Adelaide ashamedly. +“But if you girls will wait till I get bathed and +dressed, I’ll wash all the dishes to pay for this!” +</p> +<p> +“You won’t do any such thing,” said the others. +</p> +<p> +So they sat sociably outside Adelaide’s tent till +she was dressed and joined them. Then they started +out valiantly for the cooking-place. +</p> +<p> +When they reached it a very cheering surprise +awaited them, for there was Mrs. Bryan seated on a +pile of kindling, with a box of matches on her lap +and a pleasant smile on her face. +</p> +<p> +“I thought you mightn’t know just where to +begin,” she said, “so I thought I’d come help, this +first morning. The first thing is the fire. Do any of +you know how to make a cooking-fire in the open?” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide didn’t, neither did Elizabeth. Winona +thought she knew, but wasn’t sure, and Lilian had once +seen it done, but had forgotten how. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’d better show you all, then,” said their Guardian +briskly. “The first thing you do is to get together +two big green logs that won’t burn. Roll them +together so they form a big V.” +</p> +<p> +“Logs that <em>won’t</em> burn! What a queer beginning!” +said Winona, whose idea of building a fire was +heaping a bonfire up with sticks till it flamed high. +</p> +<p> +But they tugged and pushed till they had a couple +of newly-felled trees at angles to each other, in a +hollow place protected from the wind. +</p> +<p> +“Now, you build your fire inside that V,” explained +Mrs. Bryan, “and, you see, you can put the cocoa-pan +up at the beginning of the crotch, and the portable oven +and the frying-pan down where the division is wider.” +</p> +<p> +“Simple as anything,” said Winona, “once you +know how.” +</p> +<p> +And they scattered to find wood. The sticks lay +about in plenty—later they were hard to find without +going into the woods which encircled the camping-place—and +Mrs. Bryan showed them how to commence a fire +by laying small pieces of brushwood criss-cross at the +bottom, and piling on heavier wood till all was aflame. +Presently they had a solid, roaring fire. They sat back +and let it burn down to coals. By then they had the +flour-barrel opened, the bacon sliced, and the water +ready to put on the cocoa. Winona made biscuits, it +seemed to her, in mountains, while Elizabeth got out +the butter and knives and forks, and set the table. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t cut out biscuits enough for twenty +people with a cutter, child!” advised Mrs. Bryan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +</p> +<p> +“Just take the butcher-knife, and cut the whole mass +of dough into squares, after you’ve laid it on the +floured floors of the oven!” +</p> +<p> +But the bacon had to be sliced, and this took longer; +and Adelaide’s job, looking after the cocoa, proved +nerve-racking, because cocoa will burn at the slightest +chance. But everything came right, and by the time +the other girls were astir their breakfast was awaiting +them, piping hot; crispy bacon, hot biscuits and butter, +with jam they had made themselves, and cocoa. +</p> +<p> +“Jam’s an extra,” Mrs. Bryan warned them. “It +happened to be left over from the sales, so I brought it. +You’ll have to go to work and make some more out of +berries you pick.” +</p> +<p> +After breakfast, Marie, the keeper of the Blue +Birds’ Nest, said that she was going to put two Blue +Birds to work at each of the camp shifts, and leave +the odd one to be Mrs. Bryan’s personal Bird and +attendant. Mrs. Bryan was to choose her attendant, +who was to run her errands for her and help her generally. +But she refused to do it. +</p> +<p> +“I like them all so much,” she said, “that I can’t +pick out a special one.” +</p> +<p> +So they counted out for the honor, and the choice +for the first week fell on little Lucy Hillis. The others, +as far as it could be done, worked with their own sisters. +</p> +<p> +After breakfast, while the dish-washing brigade +wrestled with the cups, plates and spoons that twenty +people leave behind them, the cooks held a council. +They decided that it would be easier if two girls got +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +each meal in turn: Winona and Adelaide the dinner, +Elizabeth and Lilian the supper, and so on. The camp +police divided off the same way, and so, eventually, did +the dish-washers. Helen, who had the Camp funds in +her charge, talked with the girls who were going to +market that day. There was twenty-five dollars for +three weeks of camp, she explained, and she thought +that the safest way would be to allow so much a day, +which gave them about a dollar twenty a day to spend. +They thought so, too, and presently Nataly and Helen +went off in search of the farmhouse which had promised +to keep them supplied with perishable provisions. +</p> +<p> +Winona and Adelaide, freed of any further duties +till supper-time, went off exploring. It was a perfect +day, bright and breezy and not too hot. Winona half-danced +along, singing under her breath. The sun +glinted on her pretty hair and lighted up her blue eyes. +Adelaide looked at her wistfully. +</p> +<p> +“I do wish I were you!” she said abruptly. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked at her in surprise. “Wish you were +me? Why, on earth?” she asked. “Isn’t it just as +nice to be you?” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide shook her head. “I don’t like it much!” +she said rebelliously. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +Winona slipped her arm about her, and pulled her +down on a comfortable looking log. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s sit down and talk about it,” said she cheerfully. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> +<p> +Adelaide turned and faced Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Well, go ahead and talk,” she said. “It won’t +make things any less so.” Then suddenly she burst +out, “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know +how it feels never to have anything extra. If I go to a +party I’m likely to be the worst-dressed girl there. +If I go to school and the girls treat I have to say I +don’t want any because I can’t pay back. I can’t invite +anybody to meals, because I can’t give them extra nice +things to eat. And, anyway, the flat’s horrid—even the +furniture and the carpets are shabby. Lonny and +Frances are good, and help, but everything drags. And +I just hate <em>everything</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“Hate everything!” said Winona soothingly. +“Why, of course you don’t—you just think you do!” +</p> +<p> +“It’s all right for you to talk,” murmured Adelaide +miserably. “Everybody’s crazy over you—of course +they would be. I am myself, and I don’t like people +generally. You have something about you that would +make people like you even if you weren’t sweet to +them. Everything turns out right for you. I don’t +see what you wanted to join the Camp Fire for—its +rules stuck out all over you before you ever joined.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, <em>don’t</em>!” said Winona, blushing. “What +rules do you mean? I never kept any rules.” +</p> +<p> +“You know the Law of the Camp Fire: ‘Seek +beauty; give service; pursue knowledge; be trustworthy; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +hold on to health; glorify work; be happy.’” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t do all those things,” said Winona. “Wish +I did! But anybody seeks beauty, and as long as you +have to work the only way to get fun out of it is to +glorify it. As for the rest, I think they’re only rules for +getting all there is out of living. I’ll tell you, Adelaide,”—Winona +sat upright, as if a new thought had struck +her—“why don’t you see how many of the rules would +apply to getting fun out of the things that worry you? +When things go wrong at our house mother always +says to Florence and Tommy and me, ‘Can’t you turn +it into a game?’” +</p> +<p> +“Turn shabby furniture and stews and no money +into a game?” said Adelaide, as if she thought Winona +was crazy. +</p> +<p> +“Yes!” said Winona undauntedly. “To begin with +the stews—well, Adelaide, you don’t know one single +thing about cooking. There’s any amount of things +beside stew that you can make out of stewing meat. +And don’t you remember the cold things we got out of +Mrs. Bryan’s refrigerator? That was a good supper, +wasn’t it? If you know how, cooking’s fun, or nearly +anything.” +</p> +<p> +“If we have more cooking-classes I suppose I could +learn how to do more things with the meats and vegetables, +or maybe market better,” said Adelaide. “But +that would only help that one thing.” +</p> +<p> +“You can figure out keeping house just like anything +else,” said Winona. “All you have to do’s to +<em>think</em>!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +</p> +<p> +Adelaide laughed. “Do you suppose I could think +the furniture new?” she asked. “You ought to see it—horrid +old brown rep, and a carpet that’s worn into +white spots!” +</p> +<p> +But though she laughed, she looked to Winona for +the answer with real eagerness. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll tell you what I’d do,” suggested Winona +thoughtfully—“I don’t suppose you would, you’re such +a haughty Lady Imogene—I’d make a furnishing bee of +it, and have a party, and invite all the girls to help you +do the flat over. Your father and Lonny would help, +wouldn’t they?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I guess so,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, the girls would help you cover the +furniture and stain the floor, and even paper, maybe. +And if your father or Lonny could paint the wood-work—or +would the landlord?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Adelaide, “he won’t make repairs. +It’s not in the lease. And where would I get money +for the paint and paper and stain and covers?” +</p> +<p> +“Earn it!” said Winona. “There are lots of ways. +That jam you made for the sales—you could get heaps +of orders for that, I know. Oh, I should think it would +be lovely to do. I tell you, Adelaide, you may think +I’m crazy—but everything’s fun, if you’ll only remember +that it <em>is</em> fun!” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder!” said Adelaide. “But I believe I +could make money with jams and preserves if I worked +hard at it.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ve all got to earn some more money soon if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +we want to stay in the camp longer than three weeks,” +said Winona, “unless Louise can feed us all on the +venison steaks she was talking about last night. If you +can make money for the camp you can for yourself!” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide turned impulsively—they had risen and +were going on through the wood—and threw her arms +around Winona. +</p> +<p> +“You certainly are the most comforting girl!” +she said. “I don’t wonder everybody does what you +want them to.” +</p> +<p> +Winona didn’t know what to say. It’s pleasant to +have people say such things to you, but it is embarrassing, +too. +</p> +<p> +“People like you just as much as they do me,” said +she. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find the river +we’ve heard so much about.” +</p> +<p> +They caught hands and ran on through the trees. +</p> +<p> +The river was not hard to find. Above them it was +a broad stream, but just here it wasn’t very wide, just +a pretty, clear, clean-looking stream, with green banks +and some sort of a dock to be seen a little way beyond +them. On the dock, when they reached it, was seen +to be an elderly native with a pipe, and beside him was +moored a rowboat which looked as if it could be rowed. +He looked up from his fishing as the girls appeared. +</p> +<p> +“Morning,” he said sociably, “you little girls going +down to the village?” +</p> +<p> +“Good-morning,” said Winona. “No, we hadn’t +thought of it. We might, though. Is there anything +we could get for you if we went?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said the old man, jerking in his line with +a good-sized fish on it, “ye-es, there is. I want an ad +put in the paper. I guess I could trust you with a +quarter to do it with.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess you could,” said Winona, smiling. “Will +this afternoon do? I don’t believe we’d have time now +to get there and back before dinner-time.” She looked +at her wrist-watch. “No, we won’t,” she said. “It’s +eleven now.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, this afternoon would do,” he said. +</p> +<p> +So, while the girls looked at the rowboat wishfully, +and wondered if they couldn’t get enough fish for supper +if they had some tackle, the old man adjusted his +spectacles, pulled an old envelope out of his pocket, +and wrote on it laboriously. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mind if I read it?” asked Winona, when +he was done and had handed it to her. +</p> +<p> +“Seein’s that’s what it’s for, I dunno’s I do,” he +grunted, grinning pleasantly. Winona and Adelaide +took each a corner, and read as follows: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +For sale, one rowboat in good condition, with oars. +No reasonable offer refused. Apply to John Sloane, +R. F. D. 3, village. +</p> +<p> +They looked at each other, then at the boat. Then +both girls exclaimed with one impulse, “Is it this +boat?” +</p> +<p> +“This very rowboat,” said Mr. Sloane, eying it +with affection. “I don’t use it no more. I’ve got a +motor-boat, and them Boy Scouts up the river has got +a fine young flock of canoes, so they ain’t likely to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +want to hire it. Anyway, she ain’t so young as she was. +Good boat, though!” +</p> +<p> +“And what would you call a reasonable offer?” +inquired Winona. “The reason I want to know is +that I have just six dollars, and if I could buy a +rowboat that way I would.” +</p> +<p> +“Six dollars, hey?” said Mr. Sloane slowly. “That +ain’t much for a good boat.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s all I have to spend on rowboats,” said Winona +placidly. +</p> +<p> +“We-el,” decided Mr. Sloane, “guess I might’s well +let you have it!” +</p> +<p> +And he proceeded to make out a receipt on the spot, +on the other half of the envelope he had used for the +advertisement. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly pays to advertise!” he remarked, as +he turned his attention again to his fishing-line. +</p> +<p> +Adelaide and Winona jumped into their boat with +delight, and rowed downstream for half a mile. There +they were stopped by the beautiful sight of a lot of +huckleberry bushes, full of fruit, along the edge of +the stream. They both filled their hats, and when +these would hold no more they pinned up Winona’s +skirt in front and filled that—Winona sitting very still +thereafter in order not to smash any berries. Then +Adelaide rowed back and tied their newly-acquired +property to the dock, the use of which was thrown in, +and went back to camp with berries enough for dinner. +Just before they came within hearing of the others, +Adelaide whispered: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +</p> +<p> +“Winona, I’m going to try to—to feel that way +about things.” +</p> +<p> +Winona squeezed her hand, but there was no time +to say anything more, for a horde of small pirates +descended on them and carried away the berries. +</p> +<p> +After dinner the girls lay on the grass and made +plans, more or less wild, for getting money to prolong +their vacation. +</p> +<p> +“We can’t have a cake-sale,” said Marie practically, +“because the farmers’ wives in the village make all +their own baked stuff, and the people at the summer-resort +are mostly boarders.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please don’t let’s have any more cake-sales, +whether they’re profitable or not,” said Louise pathetically. +“I sold eats for those sales till I used to go to +sleep at night and dream I was a wedding-cake myself.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, then,” soothed Helen, “you shan’t ever +have such dreadful dreams again, you poor little +thing!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what shall we do, then?” asked Edith Hillis +pulling her yellow curls over her shoulder and examining +them as if she had never seen them before. +</p> +<p> +“When you want money,” remarked Mrs. Bryan, +“you have to sell something, either your services, or +your manufactures, or your talents.” +</p> +<p> +“In other words,” said Winona, “work for people, +or make things to sell them, or have an entertainment.” +</p> +<p> +“Precisely,” said the Guardian. +</p> +<p> +“Then let’s start at the beginning,” offered Winona, +“and everybody try to think what she can do best in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +the way of work, and whether anybody’d want them +to!” +</p> +<p> +“One thing,” reminded Marie, “we can’t live by +taking in each other’s washing, so to speak. We’ll have +to scheme to get some of their hard-earned butter-and-egg +money away from the farmers’ wives, or else prey +on the summer-resorters.” +</p> +<p> +“We expect to give it right back to them for butter +and eggs,” said Adelaide. “Whatever we do we might +as well take it out in trade!” +</p> +<p> +After that nobody seemed to have any more ideas. +Everyone sat silently and thought very hard; till Louise +jumped up with a yelp of impatience that woke Puppums +from his after-dinner nap, and made even Hike +the Camp Cat open one green eye. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t let’s waste this gorgeous day thinking!” +she said. “My head isn’t used to it, and it hurts. +Come on, anybody that wants to—I’m going to walk +down to the village to buy something, I don’t care what. +Who’ll come?” +</p> +<p> +Winona, Helen and Nataly dropped into step beside +Louise, and the four marched off singing “In the +Land of the Sky-Blue Water,” which they were trying +to learn. +</p> +<p> +“That song really sounds better to Opeechee’s ceremonial +drum than anything else,” remarked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Real Indian music always sounds better if you +pound something while you sing it, even if it’s only a +dish-pan,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Please don’t mention dish-pans,” begged Louise, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +“they’re a tender point. I just parted from mine half +an hour ago.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Winona good-humoredly, “I have +something else interesting to tell you. I bought a rowboat +to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, good!” cried Helen. “Marie’s canoe and +mine will be up in a day or so, but a canoe wiggles so +when you try to fish from it. Now we can all go +fishing. Elizabeth brought tackle, but we thought we +couldn’t do much good, fishing from the bank.” +</p> +<p> +“And the Blue Birds can go out in it till they learn +more about canoes, too,” said Winona. “I’m going +exploring myself in it as soon as I can. What are you +really going to the village for, Louise—or don’t you +know?” +</p> +<p> +“Benzine for my burnt-wood outfit,” said Louise. +“I had some thinks, and that was one. Little Louise +is going to make some nice burnt-leather things for the +neighborhood. Pillows and table-covers, and heaps of +things for the farmers’ wives to buy. Lessons in the +art if they want them. I brought my outfit, and some +skins, and colors.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought I’d model some vases and pots and +bowls, and fire them,” said Helen. “They might sell, +too. Have you thought of anything, Winona?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a blessed thing, for myself,” said Winona. +“You know, I’m not particularly clever about doing +things like that, except making baskets, and Florence +does those better than I do. But I have thought of one +thing—how to sell our wares after they are made.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s quite a useful thing to know,” said Louise. +“About the most useful thing there is, in fact. Well, +how?” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have to peddle them,” said Winona calmly. +“The farmers’ wives won’t come out here to buy unless +we advertise a lot, and we can’t afford that. The thing +for us to do is to get some sort of a thing to carry the +goods in, and make it look awfully arts-an-craftsy, and +pull it round and sell things at the houses.” +</p> +<p> +“A soap-box on wheels is what I <em>think</em> you’re hinting +at,” said Louise, “but I hope not.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you really in earnest?” asked Nataly, who +had taken no share in the talk so far. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” asked Winona. “It’s no worse than +taking a horse and cart down through the Italian quarter +and selling rummage things to the women there; and +that’s what the Ladies’ Aid at our church did last +winter.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s different,” insisted Nataly, and nothing could +shake her in her ideas. So Louise poked Winona, as +a hint not to argue any more. But when Nataly went +into the little general store to buy some picture post-cards +Louise whispered to the other girls, “I have a +glorious improvement on your soap-box plan, Winnie. +If you girls will help me put it through I’ll tell you all +about it.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to hear about it first,” said Helen doubtfully; +for Louise’s plans were always original, but not +always safe and sane. Before Louise could answer +Nataly was back again, and Louise began to tell her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +the story of the reduced English gentlewoman who +had to sell shrimps for a living, by calling them up and +down the streets. “And she was such a perfect lady,” +finished Louise, “that whenever she called out ‘Shrimps +for sale!’ she’d add under her breath, ‘I hope to goodness +nobody hears me!’” +</p> +<p> +“And did they?” Nataly asked innocently, while +Winona tried to keep her face straight. +</p> +<p> +“No, they didn’t,” said Louise sadly, “so she never +sold any shrimps at all. And so she died of starvation.” +</p> +<p> +But Nataly, instead of grasping the moral, said +only, “Well, why didn’t she eat the shrimps, then?” +</p> +<p> +At which Louise grunted disgustedly and went in +to buy herself the benzine. +</p> +<p> +After that day there was always a feeling in the +village near Camp Sunrise that every Camp Fire Girl’s +first object in life was cat-rescue. And it was Winona +who was responsible. To begin with, the day the girls +arrived at camp she had been seen by all the interested +villagers, walking near the head of the dusty procession, +leading a small, sash-bandaged gray kitten by a string. +Hike had meowed for air and exercise just as the village +had been neared, and Winona had taken that means of +giving it to him, without risking his running off. The +villagers might have let that, by itself, pass. But when +it was coupled with Winona’s performance of this +afternoon—well, you can judge for yourself. +</p> +<p> +It was after the girls had bought everything they +came for, and were on their way to camp. Out of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +gate, across their road, bounded two small boys, each +of whom held a wriggling black kitten. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you hurt the kitty if you hold it by just one +leg?” inquired Winona of the nearest boy. +</p> +<p> +“It don’t matter if we do hurt ’em—they ain’t any +good anyhow,” he explained. “We’re going to drown +’em in a minute.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, <em>no</em>!” protested Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Well, will you take ’em?” asked the other boy. +“Mother says she can’t keep any more cats.” +</p> +<p> +Winona took the victims on the spot, and put them +into the continuous pocket all around the bottom of her +Balkan blouse. The small boys went back into their +yard, where they were heard announcing, “Mother! +A girl took the kitties!” And Winona stood still with +a kitten at each hip. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better give them back,” said Nataly, who +was afraid of cats. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I couldn’t!” said Winona. “It’s so nice to +be alive, even if you’re a cat—and there isn’t really any +Cat-Heaven, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, advertise them for sale, then,” said Louise +impatiently. “Good home and kind treatment wanted +for two black kittens—salary no object.” +</p> +<p> +She wasn’t in earnest, but Winona was. +</p> +<p> +“I will!” she said. “Not for sale, but to give away. +Will one of you take this notice to the paper, while +I take the kittens to camp for the night?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll take the kittens home!” volunteered Helen, +Louise and Nataly with a touching oneness of feeling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +</p> +<p> +Winona grinned. “Why, you very obliging +people!” she said. “Please put them in a box with netting, +then, so they can’t get away. I’ll go and advertise. +I’m perfectly sure such good kittens as these will +have lots of applications!” +</p> +<p> +Louise and Helen, each with a kitten, accompanied +by Nataly, kittenless, went slowly campward in eloquent +silence, while Winona sped back to the office of the +village paper. So the next day an advertisement +appeared in the <em>Press:</em> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Wanted, to find homes for two black kittens, nice +purrers, good mousers. Can be separated. Apply Box 2, +<em>Press</em> office, or at Camp Karonya, in person. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care if they do laugh,” said Winona when +she got back, to find Camp Karonya howling at her in +rows. “If they laugh they’re more apt to remember, +and come get the kittens. I’ll put them out of the way, +poor little things, if nobody answers in a day or two.” +</p> +<p> +But—whether it was that cats who were “nice purrers” +were a novelty, whether it is true that there’s +a place for everything in this world if we could only +get in touch with it—the very next day there were five +applicants for those two black kittens. Indeed, Winona +had great difficulty in holding onto Hike the Camp Cat, +who had grown by now into a very presentable, if fat, +Maltese kitten. People seemed to think that it was +Winona’s duty to distribute cats as long as cats held out. +</p> +<p> +The only drawback was that for the rest of the time +it was there the village with one accord used Camp +Karonya as a clearing-house for its cats! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> +<p> +A couple of days later Winona took Florence and +Puppums, and went exploring in the rowboat. Louise +and Helen were very busy making a tree-house, but +they promised to see that Hike the Camp Cat was looked +after and no belated advertisement answerer got him. +</p> +<p> +The Merriams rowed about a mile along the river, +in the direction away from the village, without finding +anything more interesting than a muskrat, who disappeared +when Puppums barked at him. But just a +while after this thrilling incident they rounded a bend, +and there in a red canoe, placidly catching fish, sat Tom! +</p> +<p> +His back and that of the boy with him were turned +to them, but there was no mistaking him, nor Billy Lee. +Neither of them saw the rowboat till it was quite close, +and Florence and Puppums howled together in greeting. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, kid! H’lo, Winnie—you’ve frightened the +fish!” was his brotherly greeting: while Billy, not being +a relation, took off his hat and said politely that +he was glad to see them, and how was the camp? +</p> +<p> +“Oh, never mind the fish!” said Winona, when +she had answered Billy with equal politeness. “You +can fish any day, but you haven’t seen your family since +last week. How do you come to be up here so soon?” +</p> +<p> +“Captain Gedney worked it somehow—I don’t +know how,” said Tom. “Anyhow, we’re here. Good +fishing, too. See?” He held up a string of fair-sized +fish in proof. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +</p> +<p> +“Where’s your camp?” asked Florence, while +Puppums almost had hysterics and had to be handed +into the canoe so that he could love Tom properly. +“Can I come see it?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure you can,” said Tom. “No charge for the +view. It’s those tents right over there.” +</p> +<p> +“You know I don’t mean that,” said Florence, +pouting. “I mean I want to get out and go over.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, wait a day or so, can’t you, Floss?” implored +Tom, who plainly didn’t want to be detached from his +fishing. “Wait and come over with the rest of the +bunch, and we’ll give you a grand welcome, fifes and +drums and things. I tell you, though, girls, why can’t +you all come use our swimming pool? We’ve just +finished damming off a little branch stream into a dandy +pond—paved it and all. Started it last year. But you’d +have to give us warning, so we wouldn’t be in it.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, how lovely!” exclaimed Winona. “I know +Mrs. Bryan will let us, and all of us brought our +bathing-suits.” +</p> +<p> +“Good enough!” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“How was mother—was everything all right at +home when you left?” asked his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, fine and dandy. But what do you think, +Winnie, that Children’s Aid child has come. Mother +says she’s glad it happened while we were out of the +way, so she’d have a better opportunity to get him running +smoothly without our help.” +</p> +<p> +“Him!” said Winona. “Do you mean they sent +a boy, not a girl?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +</p> +<p> +Tom laughed. “They certainly did—a darky about +twelve, as black as your hat, and a regular Topsy.” +</p> +<p> +“Good gracious!” said Winona, laughing. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam had written to the Children’s Aid +Society a little while before for a girl of about fourteen—black +preferred—who could help with the dishes +out of school hours. She had heard nothing about it, +and the family had completely forgotten it till now. +</p> +<p> +“When did he get there?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“The day before I came away,” said Tom. “It was +wash-day, and that colored washerwoman mother has +opened the door. First we knew she came back and +said: ‘There’s a white woman and a young colored +gemman to see Mrs. Merriam.’ So mother went out, +and came back in a minute with the agent, an awfully +nice sort of a girl, and the smallest, solemnest, black +boy you ever saw. Mother didn’t want him at first, +but the agent-girl swore he had all the virtues, and +needed a good home and moral training. Then she +walked off and left him sitting on a chair, staring +straight ahead. I tell you, it got sort of embarrassing +after awhile. So I asked him his name.” +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“He said, ‘Ah was christen’ Thomas!’” returned +Tom, grinning. “So mother told him that I’d been +christened Thomas, too, and asked him for his last +name. And he said, ‘Ma las’ name’s Clay—but hit +ain’ ma callin’ name. Ma callin’ name’s Thomas. But +yo’-all kin call me Mistah Clay if yo’ want to!’” +</p> +<p> +“Did mother want to?” asked Winona. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +</p> +<p> +“She nearly exploded,” said Tom, “but I think they +came to some sort of a compromise. I don’t think he’ll +leave her time to miss us, for a week or so anyway!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m glad of that,” said Winona. “Tommy, +did you ever know of anything I could do?” +</p> +<p> +“What on earth do you mean?” asked Tom, while +Billy Lee, who had been silently fishing all this time, +looked interested. +</p> +<p> +“I mean something I could do that would earn +money,” she explained. “We want to stay in camp +longer than we have money for, so we must earn it.” +</p> +<p> +“The thing you always were best at was darning +my stockings,” said Tom cheerfully, and grinned. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear, I just knew you’d say that!” said +Winona. “I can’t go round selling darns!” +</p> +<p> +Billy Lee lifted up his head from a tangle in his +fishing-line as he answered, “I don’t see why you +couldn’t. I mean—why couldn’t you do mending for +the Scouts? If you’d be willing to, I know we’d be +glad. There’s an awful lot of holes in my clothes.” +</p> +<p> +“And nobody to do them?” asked Winona, +delighted. +</p> +<p> +“Not a soul,” answered both boys at once. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how perfectly splendid!” said Winona. “Mr. +Gedney will know how much I ought to charge for +them, won’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, or Mrs. Bryan had better tell you,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, can I have them now?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, bother!” said Tom. “Won’t to-morrow +do?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get ’em,” said Billy Lee, and made a flying +leap out of the canoe to shore. +</p> +<p> +He was gone a few minutes, and came back with a +clothes-basket full of garments of various kinds: also +with the Scoutmaster, Captain Gedney. +</p> +<p> +“Good-morning, girls!” said the Scoutmaster. +“This is fine! Billy tells me we’re going to get our +mending done!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, is it really all right?” quivered Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed, it’s more than all right,” answered +Mr. Gedney enthusiastically. “I was thinking of taking +a trip to the village to see if we could find somebody +we could put at it, but this is better. Now you +get your Guardian to put a price on the work, either by +the piece or by the hour. I can promise you spot-cash, +and a great deal of gratitude into the bargain.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +So the end of it was that Florence and Winona +rowed happily back down the river with what looked +extremely like two weeks’ wash in their boat; also with +the joyful certainty that Winona, at least, was going +to be able to earn her share of the expenses for the extra +weeks of camping. +</p> +<p> +The boys promised to paddle down in a couple of +days and get the mended clothes, and—most important—the +bill for them. Billy Lee wanted to see his sister, +anyway, he said. +</p> +<p> +When Florence and Winona got back nearly every +girl in camp was seated out in the open air, in a big +circle, and nearly all of them were talking at once, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +planning the ceremonial meeting for that night. There +was to be a ceremonial fire, a very high and beautiful +one with a central pole—this last an innovation which +Louise was introducing. And Winona and Marie +Hunter were going to be made Fire Makers, Louise +and several of the others were going to be Wood-gatherers, +and Nataly Lee was going to join. +</p> +<p> +When Winona joined the circle she found that a +good deal of the excitement was being caused by the +Book of the Count. Marie and Helen, with paints and +pen and brushes, were making the record of the days +they had spent in camp a very lively affair. +</p> +<p> +Winona sat down and looked on at what Marie was +doing, and read on the page they had open: +</p> +<p> + On the second day, Winona,<br /> + Ray-of-Light, the Cat-Collector<br /> + Made her way unto the village,<br /> + To buy post-cards at the village.<br /> + With her went the cheerful Comet,<br /> + Ishkoodah with flaming tresses;<br /> + With her went the Star of Evening,<br /> + Helen, gentle Star of Evening,<br /> + And Nokoma, flower-giver—<br /> + Nataly the flower-giver.<br /> + Seeking post-cards, thus they wandered,<br /> + But alas, the Cat-Collector<br /> + Much preferred to bring home kittens,<br /> + And to advertise those kittens.<br /> + All next day the ad-replyers<br /> + Tracked our camp with questing footsteps,<br /> + Asked of us—“Where are those kittens?<br /> + Give us several dozen kittens!”<br /> + For, alas, those cats had vanished,<br /> + Gone with the first two replyers<br /> + To the ad Winona paid for.<br /> + <br/> + Still about our Camp come wailing<br /> + Folk who seek the cats they heard of,<br /> + Seeking several dozen kittens;<br /> + Still the Ray-of-Light, Winona,<br /> + Cannot give them any kittens,<br /> + Cannot stop their wronged insistence<br /> + On those kittens, on those kittens—<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, good gracious!” asked Winona, beginning +to laugh before she read any further. “Who <em>did</em> make +all that up?” +</p> +<p> +“I did,” said Marie proudly, “but we all helped.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to tell me that any more people have +come catting to-day?” demanded Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Only seven,” said Helen. “Winnie, you’ll never +hear the last of this.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mrs. Bryan, I’ve found some work to do +that will earn money,” said Winona, hastily changing +the subject. “Florence and I went up to the Scouts’ +camp, and Mr. Gedney gave us the boys’ mending to do. +He said you were to put a price on it for us.” +</p> +<p> +“Twenty to twenty-five cents an hour,” supplied +Mrs. Bryan promptly. “You’d better have some of +the other girls help you, too, dear, for there’s enough +work there to take up a good deal of your time for three +or four days, and you don’t come camping to turn yourself +into a sewing-girl, even for the good of the camp.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said Winona. “Who hasn’t picked +out any special work to do yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Nataly Lee,” said someone. +</p> +<p> +“Neither have I,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll help, too.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +</p> +<p> +A half-dozen of them went off to a sunny spot, produced +a large alarm-clock to time themselves by, and +put in two hours of work immediately. That is, all but +Nataly. She got tired at the end of one hour, and went +off, she said, to lie down. The others got the mending +almost done, for many hands make light work. Then +they piled up the basket again, and went back to camp. +It was Winona’s turn to get supper that night. +</p> +<p> +“There ought to be about four dollars’ worth of +work in that basket,” said Helen thoughtfully when +they all met at supper. +</p> +<p> +“It’s probably more than we’ll have next time,” +said Winona. “But anyway, it’s a steady income. +Let’s hope they’ll be kind, and wear big, awful holes +in everything they have.” +</p> +<p> +“They will, unless they’ve had a change of heart +since last week,” said Louise. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +After supper was cleared away the girls set about +collecting wood in the open space on the top of the little +hill, for their ceremonial-fire. It was the most happy +and successful meeting they had had, and also, as +Louise expressed it, the most beadful. It ended in a +ghost-dance around the fire. After it was through the +girls lay still and told stories, which gradually became +more ghostly than the dance. It was very pleasant +till bedtime came. Then even the bravest of them made +dashes for their tents; and Mrs. Bryan, making her +rounds after the camp was asleep, found five lighted +candles keeping ghosts out of five tents in a row! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> +<p> +There were bathing and boating and tree-climbing +in the days that followed and there were hikes and +folk-dances and various entertainments, by themselves, +and occasionally with the Scouts for audience. The +girls canoed all up and down the river, and borrowed the +Scout swimming-pool with rapture, and learned all +sorts of swimming and diving stunts. And everybody +got brown and husky and cheerful. But in between the +good times the girls worked on steadily, each at her +appointed task, and in about ten days there was a +promising collection of material to be sold, for the +virtuous purpose of giving Camp Karonya some more +weeks of life in the Wampoag woods. +</p> +<p> +Helen gave up modelling her beloved statuettes, and +went soberly to work at bowls and vases, and other +such things that people would be likely to find useful. +She decorated them with motives she drew herself, and +took them up to Wampoag, the summer-resort, where +there was a kiln, and had them fired. Louise made +burnt-leather pillows, which filled her hair with such +a fearful smell that for awhile she washed it every day, +till it occurred to her to wear a bathing-cap to work in. +She also burned mats and table-covers and napkin-rings +to the limit of her purchasing power; and when +that failed she took to carving things out of wood she +picked up. The Blue Birds wove raffia baskets and +table-mats, and Marie and Edith crocheted bags and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +collars. Adelaide devoted herself to canning. The rest +helped her sometimes, but more of the time she took +pride in putting up the fruit all by herself. +</p> +<p> +There were embroidered tea-cloths and runners, and +there was hammered brass-work. The honor-counts +rolled up like snowballs, for the girls made nearly +everything a girl is capable of making or decorating. +There was almost enough made to stop. +</p> +<p> +But still Camp Karonya held nightly discussions, +having made these various things, as to how to sell +them. The plan most of them wanted to adopt was +that of going from house to house with them. Having +a fair meant hiring a room or store, or running the risk +of having nobody come to buy—for the camp was two +miles from the nearest point of civilization. The only +alternative seemed putting them into some of the resort +shops to be sold on commission, and there was a large +risk there that the shops might not do properly by them. +There was another alternative, sending them home to be +sold, but that seemed inglorious, somehow. +</p> +<p> +One night, after everything had been argued over +until everybody had finished from sheer inability to +think of anything more to say, and begun to discuss +constellations instead, Winona, lying on her back, felt +a pull at her sleeve. She rolled over, to see Louise +stealthily working herself down the hill, out of the +moonlight. Winona rolled as stealthily after her. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” she asked, when they were at the +bottom of the hill, where they couldn’t be seen. +</p> +<p> +“Come hither, Little One, and I will tell you!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +responded Louise, like Kipling’s Crocodile. She led the +way to the dock, where they sat down in the moored +rowboat, and Louise began to hold forth. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve got more than enough things to sell, and +none of those plans are a bit of good. What we want +to do is to take all that stuff up to Wampoag, in this +old boat of yours, and peddle them at the big hotels.” +</p> +<p> +“I think so, too,” agreed Winona, “but the girls +haven’t gotten unanimous yet. You know Nataly Lee’s +going to fight to the last ditch against selling things that +way. I don’t know whether she thinks it’s too hard +work or too undignified, but you can see she isn’t going +to stand for it one little bit.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that girl makes me tired!” said Louise. “I’m +not going to wait for their old unanimity. I tell you, +Win, I have a plan!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, go ahead!” Winona encouraged. +</p> +<p> +“To-morrow morning,” said Louise. “You and +I will slide off early, like the Third Little Pig, and pack +the boat with all the junk we have ready. It’s all in +the boxes in the store-place. Then we’ll row to Wampoag, +and just sell things all day!” +</p> +<p> +“How’ll we get them away without anybody seeing +us?” objected Winona, who liked the plan very much. +“It would be gorgeous if we could manage it.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have to go now and sneak the stuff into the +boat before bedtime,” said Louise. “We can pile them +on that amateur stretcher we used to carry Florence. +I think nobody ever took it apart.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hurrah! Come on, then!” said Winona, and the +two girls slid off into the shadows. +</p> +<p> +It was not such very hard work. They filled their +two suitcases, and put what wouldn’t go in the suitcases +on the stretcher; and had everything in the boat and +covered up with a waterproof blanket before their +absence had been noticed. Then they stole back into the +circle as innocently as kittens, in time to sing “Mammy +Moon” at the tops of their voices with the rest. +</p> +<p> +They were both on the policing shift that week, so +it was easy for them to arrange to get their share of +camp-work over early. By half-past eight in the morning +they were rowing gayly down the river in the direction +of Wampoag. Florence wanted to come, but they +had to repress her. She might have been in their way. +</p> +<p> +When they were around the bend, safely out of +sight of the camp, Winnie stopped rowing. +</p> +<p> +“I had an idea, too!” she said. “Reach under the +seat, Louise.” +</p> +<p> +Louise pulled out, first, the luncheon she herself +had poked under a little while before; next, a good-sized +bundle that appeared to be clothes. +</p> +<p> +“What’s this for?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“For us,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +Louise opened it, and eyed its contents puzzledly. +There were a dressing-sack made of bandanna handkerchiefs, +partly ripped up, two old skirts, an old shawl +and a checked gingham apron. +</p> +<p> +“They’re to dress up in,” explained Winona. +“We’ll be poor little emigrant girls that want to sella +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +da nice-a goods, lady! The women who go around +selling things out of suitcases always have a foreign +look. So I fished these out of the box of stuff we had +for theatricals. I knew just where it was, because +we got some things out of it for ‘Everygirl’ last week.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, gorgeous!” cried Louise, finishing the ripping-up +of the dressing-sack into its original red handkerchiefs. +She dug through the pile again and picked +out the shortest skirt, for she hadn’t her full growth +yet. “Who gets the little checked shawl?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“You do, if you want it,” answered Winona. “I’ll +take the apron.” +</p> +<p> +They both turned in the collars of their middy +blouses, and rolled the cuffs under. Skirts over them, +a bandanna apiece round their necks, and the checked +shawl over Louise’s head and a handkerchief on +Winona’s—and they were very convincing emigrants. +</p> +<p> +“Our shoes are rather too good,” said Winona discontentedly, +“but you mustn’t ask too much in this +world. Pin your hair up, Louise. It’s too red for an +Italian, or even a Syrian.” +</p> +<p> +She managed to secure her own on top under her +’kerchief as she spoke. They were both so brown that +they looked like natives of somewhere else, and the +dresses were very natural. The long skirts and +fastened-up hair made them both look eighteen or +twenty—for Winona was as tall as she would ever be, +five feet six, and Louise, though shorter, was plump. +</p> +<p> +“We can buy long earrings at the ten-cent store on +our way up,” said Louise. “I always did want to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“And, for goodness sake, Win, see if you can’t +get up some sort of an accent. Italian would be the +easiest, I guess.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, kinda lady! Sella da fina things—real handa-made!” +responded Winona, her white teeth flashing. +</p> +<p> +Then they came to the Boy Scouts’ camp, and they +had to row very softly, and keep as far away from the +bank as they could. But luck was still with them, and +none of the Scouts happened to be fishing that morning. +</p> +<p> +“If we’d remembered we might have brought back +the mending,” said Louise, with a half-concealed desire +to go tell the Scouts about her prospective lark. +</p> +<p> +“Better not go in there!” said Winona. She had +a brother in the camp, and she didn’t care to risk being +stopped in mid-career of what promised to be a very +fine time. So they rowed down the river till they +reached Wampoag, and tied their boat to the dock. +</p> +<p> +They took out the stretcher, put a suitcase on either +end of it and piled the things that were too big for the +suitcases in the middle. Then they each took an end +and started bravely forth. +</p> +<p> +“Where da gooda hotel for sella da goods?” asked +Louise, with a broad and friendly grin, of the interested +dock-keeper. +</p> +<p> +“Any at all,” he answered. “Just go straight down +this road till you see a hotel. They’re all together.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, mister,” Louise answered, and they +trotted on. +</p> +<p> +The sight of two young Italian girls carrying a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +stretcher full of goods proved to be a little more of a +sensation than the girls had bargained for. They felt +as if they had never been so much stared at in their +lives, and they were both grateful when they reached +the shelter of the first hotel porch. +</p> +<p> +It was a big hotel that they had come upon, and its +wide porches were full of women, young and old, rocking, +and talking and embroidering, and willing enough +to look at the things the girls had. The arrangement +was that Winona should take care of the smaller things, +the painted and embroidered linens and so forth in the +suitcases, while Louise attended to the pottery and +larger art-craft things, and a row of Adelaide’s jellies. +She didn’t expect to sell the jelly to people who already +had three meals a day, but she was agreeably surprised. +Evidently they liked to have things to eat in their rooms. +</p> +<p> +The stretcher and suitcases were set on the porch and +Louise, with an ingratiating grin under her shawl, +went from woman to woman, holding up her wares. +</p> +<p> +“Look at da fine pot—native wares—very +cheapa?” she asked. “You not have to buy. We lika +show. Buy da fine pot cheapa? You nice lady—you +take real Indian pillow—real pine pillow!” +</p> +<p> +“I believe I will,” said an energetic-looking old +lady with white hair and a black silk dress. “How +much is that pillow, my dear? And aren’t you pretty +young to be out selling things this way? You don’t +look more than seventeen.” +</p> +<p> +Louise swelled with pride at being taken for as old +as that, but she managed to answer, “One dollar for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +pillow—very cheap—real hand work!” and to the +last question, “I lika sella da goods—four little poor +ones younger as me home. I <em>very</em> old!” +</p> +<p> +At which the elderly lady bought the pillow on the +spot. Louise put the dollar in the pocket of her skirt, +and went back to the stretcher after a big vase of +Helen’s, which was the pride of her heart, and for +which she meant to ask at least one-fifty. +</p> +<p> +“Real pottery pot, lady!” she explained to the nearest +woman to her. “Real hand-made—see? Real +hand-painted—only two dollar!” +</p> +<p> +Louise had spent a summer at a hotel herself, the +year before, and she knew all the tricks and manners of +the porch-peddlers. She let the woman who wanted the +vase beat her down to one-sixty, and pocketed the extra +dime that she hadn’t thought she’d get with a sense of +duty well done. She frisked up and down the porch +having a glorious time, while Winona, with her open +suitcase, sat still by the top step. She did not need +to move, for the women were as interested in her wares +as they always are in table-linens. She sold a stencilled +crash luncheon set of Marie’s, five pieces, for five +dollars, while Louise was haggling over the price for +Helen’s vase. Several of the bead bags and necklaces +woven on the little looms went, too. The girls left that +porch with nearly twelve dollars worth of goods sold. +</p> +<p> +The next hotel did not do so well by them, for the +people there only bought a few handkerchiefs and bead +chains. Still it was better than nothing. They had +covered six hotels by one o’clock and made twenty-five +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +dollars. The needle-work, much to the girls’ surprise, +went more quickly than anything else. +</p> +<p> +“It must be the wistful sweetness of your expression, +or else they think I look too well-fed to be sorry +for, Win,” said Louise as they munched their sandwiches +on the dock. The dock-keeper had given them +permission. “You just sit still and look pleasant, +and the sales get made. I have to chase all over creation, +and tease and joke and cheapen, to get them to +buy mine.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid to talk much, for fear my accent will +break through,” explained Winona. “It’s the goods, I +think. They all seem crazy over those stencilled things. +I could sell a lot more if I had them.” +</p> +<p> +“Haven’t you any more?” asked Louise between +bites. +</p> +<p> +“Only one, and I promised that to your kinda +lady that you sold the pine pillow to, and told you were +the oldest of five. But I’m taking orders,” finished +Winona with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“Do you suppose Marie will stand for going on +with it?” +</p> +<p> +“For what—this bandanna party? She needn’t—I’ll +deliver them myself,” stated Winona calmly. +</p> +<p> +“What about the carved frames Elizabeth made?” +asked Louise, as they rose and took up the burden of +life in the shape of their much lightened stretcher. +</p> +<p> +“Pretty well, but nothing like the way Florence’s +and Frances’s little sweet-grass baskets went.” +</p> +<p> +“If we sell enough to run the camp another two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +weeks, I don’t see why the girls shouldn’t keep any +money over that they earn,” said Winona thoughtfully. +“The proprietor of that little boarding-house we went +to last but one says she wants more jelly. <em>That’s</em> all +gone, thank goodness—oo, but it was heavy!” +</p> +<p> +“The little baskets at a quarter apiece are going off +fast, too,” said Louise. “Hotel Abercrombie-by-the-Water. +Don’t forget your dialect, angel-child.” +</p> +<p> +“E pluribus unum! Panama mañana! Nux vomica!” +answered Winona enthusiastically as they +ascended the steps. “Buya da beada necklace, lady?” +</p> +<p> +“Good!” said Louise under her breath, and herself +tackled dialect again. “Buya da pot for poor woman, +lady? Got thirteen children to keep—no money!” +</p> +<p> +“Thirteen children—really?” asked the woman in +horror. +</p> +<p> +“Thirteen—all girls!” answered Louise mournfully, +while Winona bent very low over her suitcase, +and tried not to laugh. “Unlucky number, huh?” +</p> +<p> +“Very, for her!” said the woman. “Well, I really +must buy something to help her.” +</p> +<p> +Winona was going to stop her, for she thought it +wasn’t fair; although Louise evidently took it as a +lovely joke. But as the woman did not feel that her +duty to the thirteen went beyond buying one fifteen-cent +sweet-grass napkin-ring—and she only wanted to +give ten cents for it—Winona did not intervene. She +only whispered, “Don’t, Louise!” next time she passed +her. And Louise, though she laughed, said no more +about the thirteen poor little Camp Fire Girls starving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +at home. Then towards evening it was Winona who +got into trouble. +</p> +<p> +They had sold about forty-five dollars’ worth of +stuff in the course of the day, and were back at the first +hotel, the one they had started from, to deliver the +stencilled set Winona had promised to Louise’s white-haired +lady. Winona, who felt very tired after her +long day of tramping and selling, was sitting on the top +of the hotel porch in the shade of a pillar, her hands +crossed on her lap. Her pretty face was pale with the +long, tiring day, and her eyelids drooped. She was +figuring out that, what with the Scouts’ mending and +this day’s work, and the orders they had taken, the camp +could go on three weeks more. And she felt a touch +on her shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“My dear,” said the brisk voice of the lady who +had bought the stencilled set, “you seem tired.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, not so very,” said Winona, coming out of +her thinking-fit hastily, and forgetting her accent on the +way. +</p> +<p> +“And don’t you find this a hard life for so young +a girl?” went on the lady. “Wouldn’t you rather do +something else?” +</p> +<p> +Winona smiled and shook her head. “I like it,” +she said. +</p> +<p> +The old lady sat down by her and took her hand. +Louise, meanwhile, out of hearing, was trying to sell +a very lopsided basket to an elderly gentleman. +</p> +<p> +“My child,” she said, “I can’t help feeling that +you’re too intelligent and too refined-looking for a life +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +like this. I am sure you are not an Italian. Is there +nothing I could do to help you?” +</p> +<p> +Winona felt very uncomfortable. She hadn’t bargained +for having people take a personal interest in her. +</p> +<p> +“Really there isn’t anything,” she answered truthfully. +“I have a very good time. I can’t tell you all +about it, but indeed, I have a very pleasant life.” +</p> +<p> +But the old lady was not to be daunted. +</p> +<p> +“My dear child, there is something very attractive +about you,” she said. “I believe with the proper education +you would become an unusually charming young +girl. You are young enough still to be trained. Is that +girl with you your sister?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Winona, wondering what next. +</p> +<p> +“I thought as much,” said the old lady. “You +don’t look like sisters. You’re naturally of a better +class than she is. Now, supposing that someone who +could do a good deal for you took you and had you +educated, do you think you would be a good girl and +do them credit?” +</p> +<p> +Winona did not know in the least what to say. It +looked as if the old lady intended to adopt her before +she could escape. +</p> +<p> +“It would be awfully nice,” she said, uncomfortably, +“and very kind. But—indeed, I couldn’t!” +</p> +<p> +The old lady had begun to speak again, when a +clatter of hasty feet on the steps behind them made +her and Winona both turn around and look. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src="images/illus-162.jpg" alt="“WILLIAM!” SAID HIS AUNT, “DO YOU KNOW THIS—THIS YOUNG PERSON?”" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“WILLIAM!” SAID HIS AUNT, “DO YOU KNOW THIS—THIS YOUNG PERSON?”</span> +</div> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> +<p> +It was only a tall boy in the uniform of the Boy +Scouts who was tearing up the steps. But both the old +lady and Winona uttered a faint squeal, the old lady +because he kissed her, and Winona because she recognized +the newcomer. It was Billy Lee, and he was +evidently a relative of Winona’s would-be benefactress. +</p> +<p> +“How are you, auntie, and how’s everything?” +he was inquiring genially, with an arm still about her. +Winona gazed wildly around, meanwhile, for a hole +to crawl into, but there was none. “You see, I’ve come +to dinner,” went on Billy cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +By this time he had swung around, and seen +Winona. He took in her whole get-up, earrings, ’kerchief, +sagging skirt, checked apron; and, further off, +Louise making change energetically in the same +regalia. He began to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Good for you, Winona!” he said. “Been selling +Camp Fire stuff?” +</p> +<p> +“William!” said his aunt before Winona could +answer, “Do you know this—this young person?” +</p> +<p> +Billy looked embarrassed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, say, Winnie, I’m afraid I’ve put my foot in +it,” said he. But he went on telling the truth—Billy +was unfortunately incapable of doing anything else. +At least, it seemed unfortunate to Winona right then. +“Why, yes, Aunt Lydia. This is Winona Merriam, +who lives next door to us. She’s camping about a mile +and a half down the river from us Scouts.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +</p> +<p> +The old lady turned sharply on Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Then what makes you masquerade as an Italian +peddler?” she asked sharply. +</p> +<p> +Winona took courage, for though the old lady was +cross, she did not seem unforgivingly angry. +</p> +<p> +“We thought if we dressed up perhaps people would +buy things quicker,” she explained. “But we do really +need the money very badly, don’t we, Billy?” +</p> +<p> +“They’re trying to make enough to stay in the +woods all August, auntie,” explained Billy. “They’ve +all been working like beavers, making things, to do it.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see yet why the bandanna handkerchiefs,” +said the old lady tartly. “And you, miss”—to Louise, +who had come up—“what did you mean by telling me +that you were the eldest of five, and hadn’t slept under +a roof for ten days?” +</p> +<p> +“Because it’s true,” said Louise. “I haven’t—we’re +camping. And I <em>am</em> the eldest of five, worse +luck! I have to spend my whole time at home setting +an example. That’s why I go away to be naughty!” +</p> +<p> +It was impossible to be angry long with Louise +Lane, and the old lady did not seem to want to be angry +with Winona. So things straightened themselves out, +and actually ended in an invitation to stay to dinner! +</p> +<p> +“But we’ve nothing but our middy blouses, under +these awful things,” protested Winona, “and Mrs. +Bryan will be worried if we don’t get home till late.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right,” said Billy’s aunt Lydia, whose +name was Lawrence. She was Mrs. Lee’s sister. “I’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +have them send a man down from the dock to tell your +Guardian where you are.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then thank you!” said Winona radiantly. +But Louise still hesitated. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what is it?” asked the old lady. +</p> +<p> +Louise hung her shawl-draped head for a moment, +then she flung it back and answered frankly. +</p> +<p> +“I may want to come peddling again, and if they +see us in our camp uniform they’ll know who we are!” +</p> +<p> +“Great Scott!” cried Billy, beginning to laugh, +“You <em>are</em> a queer girl! I say, Aunt Lydia, let her +disguise herself some more, if that’s what she wants. +Give her some of your clothes, or the chambermaid’s, +or somebody’s. Would that be all right, Louise?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes indeed!” said Louise, grinning joyously. +“Lead on, Desperate Desmond.” +</p> +<p> +“I never saw such girls!” said Miss Lawrence. +“However, you may as well have your play out. +William, get a bellboy to put these goods somewhere. +I’ll take these objects of charity to get ready for dinner. +Your room’s next suite twelve, the one I have.” +</p> +<p> +She shepherded the two girls upstairs by the staircase, +instead of the elevator, as if she wanted them to be +conspicuous. +</p> +<p> +“Now, remember,” explained she, “you’re two +young foreign peddlers that I’m giving a dinner to out +of the kindness of my heart. I’m loaning you clothes +out of the same thing. So you can go right on peddling +if you want to, you with the business instinct—Louise +you said your name was? Very well, Louise, you can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +go on selling your potteries and bead bags after dinner—if +you want to. But I want to talk to Winona +myself. I don’t know but I still want to adopt her!” +</p> +<p> +Miss Lawrence left the girls alone when she had +shown them to a room, and went to prepare for dinner +herself. There was a bathroom next to them, and they +made for it—one after another, of course—with gurgles +of joy. Winona went first, while Louise was +doing her hair, which was so thick and long it took a +great deal of time to arrange. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t hot water heavenly when you haven’t seen +it in a tub for a week and a half?” said Winona, +emerging in a borrowed kimono, which she presently +passed on to Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll tell you when I’ve tried,” said Louise, disappearing +in her turn into the bathroom. She turned +around and poked out her head to say, “Now, remember, +we’ve both got to keep on looking as old as we +can. We have characters to keep up!” +</p> +<p> +Winona began to investigate the clothes Miss Lawrence +had laid out for them. She did not expect to +find anything more exciting than a black silk with a +fichu, or something else elderly of that sort. Instead, +there lay on the bed two pretty frocks which had certainly +been made for girls of their age. +</p> +<p> +She held them both up against her. They were +a little shorter than she usually wore her skirts, both +of them, and a little loose. Evidently their owner was +of a build somewhere between Winona and Louise. +But Louise, when she emerged, was quite pleased at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +that, for what was short for Winona was long for her, +naturally, and carried out the idea of age that she +wished to convey. She chose the more elaborate of the +two, a green silk, because the other dress was pink, +which doesn’t match red hair. But it did match +Winona’s brown hair and blue eyes beautifully, and the +wide satin sash was very becoming to her. The girls +gave their tennis shoes a liberal dose of whitening, +and decided that they would have to do. There were +stockings to go with the dresses. +</p> +<p> +When they were done dressing they gazed at each +other in admiration. +</p> +<p> +“I never had as pretty a dress in my life!” said +Winona delightedly, surveying the folds of rose-colored +organdy that ruffled about her. She reached up as she +spoke to fasten back her curls with the shell barrette +that usually held them at the back of her neck. +</p> +<p> +“Glad you like them!” said Miss Lawrence, appearing +on the threshold of the next room. “They +belong to my niece Nataly—I suppose you know Nataly +if you live next door to her—but she hasn’t had them +yet. I brought them to her from my trip abroad. +Here, Winona, you haven’t any hair-ribbon.” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t been wearing any in camp,” said +Winona, standing still, however, while Miss Lawrence +unclasped the barrette and supplied its place with a +rose-colored satin ribbon tied about her head, fillet-fashion. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the English fashion,” said Miss Lawrence, +“wear your hair loose till you’re sixteen or seventeen, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +then do it all up at once, instead of pulling it up by degrees, +as we do here. It’s very becoming, my dear.” +</p> +<p> +Winona privately felt that it was a little youthful, +but she said nothing, and indeed the effect of the shower +of curls falling loose from under the ribbon was exceedingly +becoming. +</p> +<p> +Louise, over by the mirror, continued to put pins +into her hair, and Miss Lawrence did not try to super-intend +<em>her</em> toilet at all, though Louise was getting +herself up to look as near twenty as she could. +</p> +<p> +A knock at the door of the sitting-room, where +they went when they were dressed, made them all turn. +</p> +<p> +“Come in,” said Miss Lawrence. +</p> +<p> +“It’s me, Billy,” said his voice ungrammatically +inside. “I say! What stunning clothes!” he added +frankly as he took in the splendor of the girls’ attire. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked at him rather shyly. The small bag +he had carried must have been well packed, for Billy +had blossomed out in a tuxedo and long trousers. +</p> +<p> +“Why,” she said, “I didn’t know you for a minute—you +look so grown up!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve had long trousers for a year now,” explained +Billy, “only I’ve always had on my uniform when +you’ve seen me before.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course, that’s it,” admitted Winona. But she +continued to stare, for this tall young gentleman looked +about eighteen in his correctly cut clothes, and she felt +like such a little girl, looking as Miss Lawrence had +made her look. What she did not know was that she +was looking her very prettiest, like a girl in a play +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +or a picture, with her flushed cheeks and falling curls +and rosy draperies. Miss Lawrence, who seemed to +have taken a fancy to her, slipped her arm through +Winona’s, leaving Louise to follow with Billy. +</p> +<p> +Louise was not impressed in the least by Billy’s +grandeur. It took a good deal to impress Louise Lane, +and one suit of evening clothes and a large hotel weren’t +likely to do it. +</p> +<p> +Winona did not look to the right or left as they +entered the big dining-room, but she knew Louise had +seen something, for she heard a little squeal of delight +close behind her. They were scarcely seated when +Louise burst out: +</p> +<p> +“What do you suppose they’ve done, Winnie? I +don’t know whether it was you or Billy, Miss Lawrence, +but thank you both, anyway. Winona, our things are +all set out in that little sun-parlor sort of place where +everybody can see them, and there’s a bellboy looking +after them. I saw him selling a bead belt!” +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t any trouble,” said Billy, looking embarrassed. +“The management lets people use that room +for displays, don’t they, Aunt Lydia?” +</p> +<p> +He did not explain that he had tipped the head bellboy +liberally to have the things looked after, and it +never occurred to either of the girls till long after. +</p> +<p> +Winona secretly decided that Nataly couldn’t be +as trying as the girls thought her, if this was the kind +of a brother she had. So she smiled brilliantly at Miss +Lawrence and Billy, and felt very happy indeed over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +the bright lights and the elaborate dinner and the +orchestra and pink dress. +</p> +<p> +And then something occurred to her. This was +Nataly’s dress, a brand-new present-dress, and so +was the one Louise had on. And they were getting +all the first wear out of them, would Nataly like it? +</p> +<p> +She looked up, directly, and said what she thought. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Lawrence, will Nataly mind our wearing +her clothes?” +</p> +<p> +Louise answered before Miss Lawrence had a +chance. “You know perfectly well she will, Win. +Why, she nearly had a fit when I climbed into a clean +middy of hers day before yesterday. And these are +uncommonly glad and happy rags we have on.” +</p> +<p> +“If she doesn’t like it,” explained Miss Lawrence +with perfect clearness, “she knows just what she can +do. My niece Nataly is a spoiled young person if ever +there was one. But don’t worry, my dear”—for +Winona was looking distressed at the idea of Nataly’s +objection—“I’ll see that she’s perfectly satisfied.” +</p> +<p> +So Winona did not worry. She talked instead, and +told Miss Lawrence everything she wanted to know +about Camp Karonya and what they did there. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a miniature community,” said Miss Lawrence +approvingly. “I wish they’d had them when I was a +girl. I suppose you’ll have a float at the lake carnival, +since you’re such enterprising young persons!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, is there going to be a lake carnival?” asked +both girls in a breath. Miss Lawrence nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Why, didn’t you know?” asked Billy. “The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +people here in Wampoag have them every year. They +give prizes for the best decorated float and canoe. I +don’t know whether it’s a cash prize this year or a cup.” +</p> +<p> +“I do hope it’s a cash prize!” breathed Louise +fervently, while Winona’s mind began to work at the +ways and means for making and decorating a Camp +Fire float, and the best way to get it up the lake. +</p> +<p> +“It would be lovely if we could do it,” she said. +“When is it to be?” +</p> +<p> +Billy pulled a little calendar out of the one small +and concealed pocket that his clothes allowed him, and +studied it. +</p> +<p> +“A week from to-morrow,” he said. “You have +lots of time.” +</p> +<p> +“Then I’m sure we can do it,” said Winona. +“Marie has a canoe she’ll probably want to enter, and +besides that surely we can get up a float among us.” +</p> +<p> +And then something which Louise—so she said +afterwards—had been expecting, happened. One of the +women who had bought pottery from them that morning +came up, and began to talk to Miss Lawrence, quite +as if the girls were out of hearing. +</p> +<p> +“Good-morning,” she began, taking everything in +as she talked. “Aren’t these the little Italian vendors +that were around this morning? Why, how transformed +they look! Really, the younger one looks quite +refined. And what are you doing with them, dear Miss +Lawrence?” +</p> +<p> +Her tone added quite plainly, “And won’t they +pocket the spoons?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +Louise, the irrepressible, grinned above her salad. +“Kinda lady loana da cloes,” she said glibly; and the +waiter, who had heard her discoursing in rapid and +fluent English of an unmistakably home-grown kind the +moment before, got behind a palm. If he hadn’t he +would have disgraced himself in a way no well-trained +waiter should. Billy, too, dived into his napkin and +seemed to have swallowed something down his Sunday +throat. But Miss Lawrence remained quite calm. +</p> +<p> +“I have taken quite a fancy to them,” she said. +“They seem like good, industrious girls. I am glad +to see you are so interested, too, Mrs. Gardner. The +best way to help them—you were going to ask me +that, were you not—is to buy their goods. You’ll +find them on sale in the little rose-room.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—ah, yes indeed!” said Mrs. Gardner, and +fled, while the young people regarded Miss Lawrence +with admiration. +</p> +<p> +When the meal was over Miss Lawrence would not +hear of their going back to the camp, or going on with +their selling. The bellboy or a maid could go on looking +after their things, she said, and sent Billy over to +see about it. Then they went into one of the little +dancing-rooms and showed each other steps for a long +time; that is, Billy and Winona did, for Louise said +she was tired, and sat thankfully still, listening to the +orchestra that played in the dining-room. After that +Miss Lawrence carried them all off to a band concert. +</p> +<p> +It was ten-thirty by the time they had finished, and +all had something more to eat—real, grown-up things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +to eat in a most gorgeous café. Miss Lawrence wanted +them to stay all night, and Winona was willing, but +Louise insisted on going back. +</p> +<p> +“If we’re here to-morrow morning,” she explained, +“every blessed woman that we sold things to will want +to know all about us and our past lives, and then the +secret will come out. No, thank you, Miss Lawrence, +</p> +<p> + “I see by the moonlight,<br /> + ’Tis past midnight,<br /> + Time pig and I were home<br /> + An hour and a half ago!”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“I being the pig, I suppose!” added Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I won’t keep you against your will,” said +Miss Lawrence, getting up from the café table. “So +you’d better go back to the hotel. They can be packing +up what’s left of your things for you, while you change. +But what about rowing across the lake and down the +river in the dark? Can you look after them, William?” +</p> +<p> +“I should think I could!” said Billy. “Besides—I +forgot to tell you, girls, or we might have had a grand +reunion—Lonny Hughes and Tom are to meet me at the +dock at about eleven, with one of the camp canoes. +Tom’s Winona’s brother,” he explained to his aunt. “So +we’ll take one of the girls in the canoe, and one of us +will go in the boat, and get them home safe as anything. +For the matter of that, you can’t get hurt on this lake +unless the fish should jump up and bite you,” he added +as they reached the hotel, and parted to dress. +</p> +<p> +The girls hurried off their finery, and got hastily +into their serge skirts and white blouses. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +</p> +<p> +“I feel like Cinderella!” said Winona as they went +down in the elevator again, only to find that, quick as +they had been Billy had been quicker, and stood, familiar-looking +in his khaki, to take them away. The pottery +and linen that was left would all go into one suitcase +now, so well had they and the bellboy prospered. Billy +gave them, too, the money that had been taken in during +the evening. They hurried off, after they had said +good-bye to Miss Lawrence, and made her promise to +come see them at Camp Karonya and stay a whole day. +</p> +<p> +At the last moment she pushed a bundle into +Winona’s hands. +</p> +<p> +“Here are your dresses, child,” she said. “You +looked so sweet it would be a shame for you and Louise +not to keep them. I’ll make it up to Nataly.” +</p> +<p> +Winona threw her arms around Miss Lawrence’s +neck, and kissed her. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, dear fairy godmother!” she said. +</p> +<p> +A more astonished pair of boys than Lonny and +Tom it would have been hard to find. It did not take +long to explain matters. In a few moments they had +Winona in the canoe between Tom and Billy, while +Lonny rowed Louise in the boat. The girls held the +boat and the canoe together. As they went Louise and +Winona told the tale of their day’s work. +</p> +<p> +When they were done Louise pulled out the money +they had made, and began to count it. +</p> +<p> +“You have some, too, Win,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“I know,” said Winona, “I have what Billy gave +me, that the bellboy made. But I don’t believe it’s a lot.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +</p> +<p> +“Better count it,” counselled Tom, and Winona +did. When she was through she looked up with an +awed expression. +</p> +<p> +“Nearly ten dollars more!” she announced. “Oh, +Louise, there must be some mistake! Why, if we both +really have made all that, there’s enough for another +three weeks’ camping!” +</p> +<p> +“And orders ahead!” said Louise serenely. “It +will take Marie and Adelaide more of their time than +they’ll want to spare from fancy diving and telling the +birds from the wild-flowers, to make jelly and runners. +I tell you, folks, I’m going to be an Italian porch-worker +from now on. It pays. Sella da fina crock—getta da +bigga price—blowa it in!” +</p> +<p> +The boys shouted. “Good for you, Louise!” they +cried, and a startled bullfrog gave a deep emotional +croak at the noise, and jumped into the water. +</p> +<p> +It was moonlight, so the trip home was pleasanter +than any they had had. They sang till they came close +to Camp Karonya, where they quieted down for fear of +disturbing the sleeping girls. But they need not have +worried. Camp Karonya was improving the moonlight +night by sitting around a watch-fire, singing and telling +stories. They could hear Helen’s voice lifted up in +“Old Uncle Ned,” with a mandolin accompanying her +that probably belonged to Edith. The boys tied the +boat and the canoe, and carried the suitcases and +stretcher, so pleasingly empty, ashore. All five walked +over to where the fire gleamed, and were in the midst +of the girls before anyone had seen them come. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2> +<p> +The girls jumped up and surrounded them. +</p> +<p> +“Where on earth have you been? What on earth +have you been doing? Where in the name of common +sense did you get that haughty black person who brought +us news of you about six?” everybody wanted to know, +while Adelaide and Nataly held brief reunions with +their brothers, and six girls at once pressed refreshments +on Lonny and Tom and Billy. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve sold most of your arts-and-crafts things,” +announced Winona. +</p> +<p> +“And every stitch of embroidery,” added Louise. +</p> +<p> +“And we’ve been to a band concert and met a +fairy godmother!” chanted Winona in her turn. +</p> +<p> +“And we have heaps and <em>heaps</em> of money!” finished +Louise jubilantly. +</p> +<p> +Then all the girls cried out, “Oh, tell us about it! +Tell us about it!” +</p> +<p> +So Louise sat down at a discreet distance from the +camp-fire, and assisted by Winona’s quieter voice, told +the story. When she got to the part where they pretended +to be Italian girls Nataly interrupted. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that was dreadful!” she said. “Surely you +didn’t do that?” +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t we, though?” grinned Louise cheerfully; +“And your very own Aunt Lydia aided and abetted us, +and gave us dinner and kind words besides!” +</p> +<p> +“Aunt Lydia!” exclaimed Nataly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +</p> +<p> +“She’s over at one of the Wampoag hotels, Nataly,” +explained her brother. “You knew she was going to be +there, didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“How could I when I haven’t heard from her?” +asked Nataly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s so!” said Billy penitently. “I ought +to have brought you down her last letter, but it was +addressed to me, and I forgot to pass it on.” +</p> +<p> +The fact was, as Winona learned later, Miss Lawrence +had very strong likes and dislikes, and much +preferred her nephew to her niece. +</p> +<p> +Louise turned round to Nataly. +</p> +<p> +“You made some things to sell, didn’t you?” she +asked, “And yet you think it was shocking of us to sell +them! I don’t think that’s fair.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t care. I don’t think it’s nice or lady-like +to peddle things from door to door,” said Nataly +stubbornly. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe it wasn’t,” said Louise cheerfully, “but it +was certainly heaps of fun!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we <em>did</em> have fun!” said Winona. “And +we have orders for more of Marie’s stencilled runners, +and Adelaide’s jelly.” +</p> +<p> +“Did nobody love my pots?” asked Helen sadly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, indeed,” consoled Winona, “only you +were so industrious, and made so many, that we have +some left. The Blue Birds’ baskets went off very well, +too.” +</p> +<p> +“How much did you make?” asked Mrs. Bryan. +“I’m wild to know.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +</p> +<p> +Louise pulled her bandanna handkerchief out of her +deepest pocket, and Winona produced hers from the +bottom of her blouse. They handed them over to the +Guardian. +</p> +<p> +“Mine’s only what the bellboy took in while we +were at dinner and out in the evening,” Winona explained. +“Louise took care of all the rest.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan counted it silently, while the girls waited +breathlessly for the result. +</p> +<p> +“Fifty-three dollars and forty-six cents!” announced +Mrs. Bryan at last. “You blessed angels, +with what we’ll get for the mending, that means over +three weeks more of camp!” +</p> +<p> +“By the way,” suggested Tom here, “can’t you give +us what’s done of the mending, please, Mrs. Bryan? +It’s time we got back to camp.” +</p> +<p> +She sent Florence and another Blue Bird to get +it, and they ran off, swinging their lanterns. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll send down the bill by some of your sisters, +with the rest of the work, by day after to-morrow at the +furthest,” she promised, as the girls stood up to bid the +three Scouts good-bye. +</p> +<p> +They watched the canoe paddle off into the darkness, +then settled down to hear the rest of the adventure. +</p> +<p> +“But there’s something else we haven’t told you!” +said Winona, when the whole story had been told and +talked over for a long while. “There’s going to be a +lake carnival.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what fun! Let’s go!” said Adelaide, speaking +more brightly than Winona had ever known her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +to. “We could hike as far as this side of the lake +by land, couldn’t we, Opeechee?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly we could—if we had to,” said Mrs. +Bryan, who was watching Winona. “Wait till Winona +finishes. She looks as if she had a plan.” +</p> +<p> +“I was thinking,” said Winona, “that it would be +very nice if we could decorate a float. The boys +said they were sure the Scouts would loan us enough +rowboats to build the float over, if we needed it. And +we could have tents——” +</p> +<p> +“Of course we could!” said everybody enthusiastically, +and all began to plan at once. +</p> +<p> +Finally Mrs. Bryan rose, and suggested that it was +twelve o’clock, and that all but the breakfast-getters +had better sleep till eight next morning. So they put +out the fire, and went to bed. +</p> +<p> +About two o’clock a slim figure in a red kimono +stole down the avenue of tents with a lantern. About +two-thirds of the way there met her another, plumper +figure, in a blue kimono, also with a lantern. +</p> +<p> +“Winona!” said the blue kimono. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Louise!” said the red one. +</p> +<p> +Then they both began to giggle in a subdued way. +</p> +<p> +“What on earth are you prowling round for, at this +time of night?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“What are you?” returned Louise. +</p> +<p> +Winona beckoned her friend over to a seat on a +fallen log. +</p> +<p> +“I—well, I’ve been worrying over our dressing up +that way, and fooling people, to sell things,” she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +confessed. “I suppose you’ll think I’m a horrid little +prig, but—Louise, I think we ought to go back and +tell those hotellers that we were just plain Camp Fire +Girls, not Italian or Dalmatian or anything like that.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought a Dalmatian was a dog,” suggested +Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe it is,” said Winona sadly. +</p> +<p> +Louise sat closer to Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Winnie,” she said, “that’s just what I climbed +out of bed about myself. I was coming to look for +you when I met you. I’ve been worrying about it, too. +It was a lark, but I think it’s up to us to gambol over +there, clothed and in our right minds—and own up.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m so glad!” said Winona. “We’ll tell +Mrs. Bryan in the morning.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Louise, and she began to giggle. +</p> +<p> +“And then, while they’re thinking how noble it is +of us to confess, we’ll sell ’em more things—real Camp +Fire Girls’ hand-crafts!” +</p> +<p> +“Louise,” said Winona with admiring conviction, +“you certainly <em>are</em> the limit.” +</p> +<p> +They both laughed, and felt better. Then they went +back to bed and went to sleep. +</p> +<p> +Next morning they rowed duly up the lake, and +made a conscientious round of the hotels and cottages +where they had sold their things the day before. But +the way of the transgressor refused to be hard. They +could wake very little excitement on the subject of their +transformation in the minds of their patrons—who, it +is to be feared, either regarded it all as a good joke, or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +did not worry about it at all. Indeed, most of the +people Louise could find to explain to were more +wronged because she had no goods with her, than by +anything else. So she took a number of orders. +</p> +<p> +“It’s no use, Lou,” said Winona, as they met at +noon by the hotel where Miss Lawrence stayed, “I +can’t get a soul to care whether I’m a Canadian or a +Hottentot. The only thing they’ll say is, ‘We’d like +some more of the baskets,’ or ‘those runners,’ or whatever +they didn’t get yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +“Same here,” said Louise. “But I landed some +fine fat orders, and if you’re as clever as I think you +are, you did, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I did,” said Winona. “And, anyway,” she +added, brightening, “when we’ve done this hotel our +consciences will be clear.” +</p> +<p> +“I only hope we don’t meet that horrid Mrs. +Gardner,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +So they marched up the steps, and tried to pick out +the women they had sold to the day before, to explain +to them. But Winona had scarcely begun, “You see, +we really weren’t Italians at all,” when the people she +was talking to began to laugh. Winona, bewildered +and a little cross, looked around to see what they were +laughing at. She saw Miss Lawrence behind her, +laughing, too. +</p> +<p> +“It’s no use explaining, my dear,” said that lady. +“I did it myself. Everybody knows that you and +Louise Lane disposed of your goods under false pretenses +by tying up your heads in red handkerchiefs and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +letting your customers draw their own conclusions. +I don’t know but some of us want our money back! +Never mind, children, it was very clever of you!” she +added, seeing that Winona was not sure whether she +was in earnest. +</p> +<p> +And the girls found themselves being questioned +and laughed at and made much of by a group of women, +who wanted to know all about the Camp Fire, and the +things the girls made, and the ways they earned money, +and what they did with it, till Winona and Louise +were fairly tired with answering questions. +</p> +<p> +They invited everybody to come out to the camp, +and set a day. They took some more orders, and then +they carried Miss Lawrence off across the lake and +down the river, to see Camp Karonya. When she arrived +they handed her over to Nataly, as was polite, and +she and Mrs. Bryan showed her over the camp. +</p> +<p> +She investigated everything with the same brisk, +fairy godmother expression that she had had when she +took Winona and Louise under her wing, stayed to +luncheon, and then expressed a desire to be taken down +to the Scouts’ camp, to see Billy. So two of the +Blue Birds rowed her there. +</p> +<p> +After they had seen Miss Lawrence off, the girls +became busy a little way down the river. Winona got +there a little late and found that much had happened +while she and Louise had gone off that morning. At +first the idea of making the float had been to found it +on the rowboats the Boy Scouts were willing to lend. +But when a deputation, headed by Mr. Gedney, paddled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +down, bringing the boats in question, it became painfully +clear that four canoes would not support enough +planks to hold twenty life-size girls. Neither would +rowboats. At least, Mrs. Bryan and Mr. Gedney agreed +that they wouldn’t—most of the girls and all the boys +were willing to take a chance. +</p> +<p> +When this turn of affairs arrived everyone felt very +sad, and for a while it had looked as if Camp Karonya +wasn’t going to have a float in the lake carnival. +</p> +<p> +But just then along came that resourceful old gentleman, +Mr. Sloane, with fishing-rod and a can of bait. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s all the trouble?” he inquired +genially of everyone in general. So they told him. +Mr. Sloane did not hesitate a moment. +</p> +<p> +“I got a friend that owns some good, water-tight +scows,” said he most unexpectedly. “They ain’t doin’ +nobody any good, and I guess he’d loan ’em to you, or, +if wust come to wust, he’d let you have the use of ’em +for maybe seventy-five cents apiece. Two scows are all +you’d need to put the plankin’ across.” +</p> +<p> +He gave them directions as to where to go after +the scows’ owner, and ambled on in search of a quieter +fishing-place. An embassy was sent after the scows +immediately, and returned with them in triumph. They +proved perfectly seaworthy, and quite equal to supporting +all they would have to. So when Winona +arrived on the scene after luncheon the girls had +reached the stage of nailing the planks across. +</p> +<p> +They had bargained for the scows at seventy-five +cents each, as Mr. Sloane had said they would be able +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +to, and promised to give them a coat of paint before +they returned them. The boards, bought of the village +carpenter, were more expensive. However, the girls +thought they could venture to pay for them out of the +treasury, on the strength of the orders ahead that they +had taken. Marie and Edith were supervising things. +</p> +<p> +“Is there anything I can do to help?” Winona +asked Marie, who was frowning thoughtfully over a +hastily-drawn plan. +</p> +<p> +“Not unless you can help us with this design,” +Marie answered. “See here. The idea is to make a +miniature Indian village. How would you group the +tents so as to take up the least room and show best?” +</p> +<p> +“Why do you try to draw it?” asked Winona. +“Why not do as generals do, make little paper tents +and move them around till you get a tableau of the +effect you want?” +</p> +<p> +The idea was new to Marie, but she liked it, and +the three girls fell to constructing little paper cones, +and arranging them on a square space that represented +the float. +</p> +<p> +Presently one of the girls who was nailing dropped +out with a pounded thumb, and Winona took up her +hammer and went to work. She discovered that the +driving of a nail straight, and making boards lie side by +side evenly, is more of an art than people know. +</p> +<p> +They worked on the float most of that afternoon, +except for a few of the girls who were told off to do +the Scout mending, and they sat down near the carpenters +and sewed sociably to the sound of the pounding. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +They worked till six, and went to bed unusually early. +</p> +<p> +By the second day the platform was done, and +proved to balance very well on the water, even with +all the girls on it. Next Marie and her helpers went to +making tents, for their own soldier tents were too unromantically +shaped to be any good on a float. They +wanted real Indian wigwams, or as near to them as +they could get. +</p> +<p> +Marie bought unbleached muslin, and they dyed it +the correct dark brown. They made three wigwams +of this, the story-book-picture kind, with the crossed +poles tied at the top, for a foundation. In each tent a +squaw was to sit—or rather, at its door, for the tepees, +in order to fit on the limited space of the float, had to +be made rather small, and would have been a tight fit +for even the smallest squaw. Some of the girls were +to dress as chiefs, and were working hard on war-bonnets +and leggings. Even Puppums was to grace the +occasion, guarding a pappoose—little Lilian Maynard, +the smallest Blue Bird. There was some idea of including +Hike the Camp Cat, now a cheerful and opulent-looking +kitten, but it was thought better of, because he +yowled so when they rehearsed him. +</p> +<p> +When the tents and costumes were done, the brushwood +heaps stacked, the floor covered with twigs and +moss, the girls tried grouping themselves as they were +to appear on the final night. And it proved that there +was not room on the platform for three tents and nineteen +girls, even if seven <em>were</em> small. +</p> +<p> +Marie stepped off and looked it over. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +</p> +<p> +“There are just two girls too many,” she said. +“Three, if I were on board. I’ll eliminate Marie +Hunter to begin with. I’m going to decorate my own +canoe. You’d better draw lots for the other two to +stay out.” +</p> +<p> +Everyone on the float looked at everyone else. Nobody +wanted to drop out, but nobody felt like being +selfish. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll drop out!” said the whole of Camp Karonya +in chorus, after a minute’s dead silence. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll go in your canoe, Marie—have you forgotten?” +asked Edith. “The plans you made included me.” +</p> +<p> +“So they did,” said Marie in a relieved voice. +“Well, perhaps the rest could crowd a little closer.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid not, and be sure that nobody’d tip into +the water,” vetoed Mrs. Bryan. “I’m the one to stay +ashore, girls. I’ll gaze at you with fond proprietorship +while you get first prize.” +</p> +<p> +But there rose up a storm of objections to that. +“No you won’t, either! There won’t any of us be in +it if you aren’t, Opeechee!” till she had to give up +giving up. +</p> +<p> +Winona braced herself a little, and “I’m out, too,” +she said gayly. “There’s no use asking me to stay—I +don’t like your old float!” +</p> +<p> +She sprang ashore, and went over and stood by +Marie. +</p> +<p> +The girls protested, and several more volunteered to +drop out, but nobody meant it quite as hard as Winona +did. So the Indian village went on being erected, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +the girls went on practising an Indian dance which +should take up the least possible room. Meanwhile +Winona rounded up the finished mending and rowed up +the river to deliver the latest basket of mended socks and +shirts. She had made her sacrifice in all good faith +and earnestness, but she felt as if she didn’t want to +see them going gayly on without her—at least, not +right <em>now</em>. +</p> +<p> +She wasn’t conscious of behaving any way but as +she generally did, but she must have, for both Tom +and Billy watched her uneasily, as she sat in the boat +and talked to them after they had taken the mending, +while she waited for the orderly to come with her +money. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Win?” asked Tom bluntly in +a minute. “You’re down and out—I can see that. +Who’s been doing anything to you?” +</p> +<p> +Winona shook her head. “Nobody.” +</p> +<p> +“Then what have <em>you</em> been doing?” asked Billy. +They stood over her, both looking so worried that +Winona felt like hugging them, or crying, or both. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t anything,” she said. “Except—well, I +did it myself. Somebody had to stay off the float, because +there wasn’t room for everyone, so I elected +myself. And—and—oh, I <em>did</em> want to be in that +carnival! But”—she straightened bravely, and smiled +up into the two indignant faces—“I guess it’s all right, +after all. If I could decorate my rowboat it would +be all right, but I can’t, because they’re going to need +it to carry properties in.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s a confounded shame,” said Billy Lee, “and +after you planned it, and all! You ought to have a float +of your own. I’ll tell you, Winona, why don’t you +decorate a canoe?” +</p> +<p> +“Only reason is, I haven’t a canoe,” laughed +Winona—they were all three sitting in a row in the +grass by this time. +</p> +<p> +“I have,” said Billy, “and you’re more than welcome +to it, and to all the help I can give you on it.” +</p> +<p> +“And I’ve got some change you’re welcome to for +decorations,” added Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how perfectly lovely!” said Winona, jumping +up with her face aglow. “Indeed I will decorate it, +and thank you both, ever and ever so much. I have +ever so many lovely ideas for decorations. Billy!” +</p> +<p> +She stopped short. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” said Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Would you mind being in the canoe with me?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, I’d love to,” said Billy heartily, whether +he really meant it or not. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, thank you <em>so</em> much!” cried Winona again. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the way to take it!” said Tom. “We’ll +get you up a canoe, between us, that’ll make your old +Camp Fire float look like a bad quarter and a plugged +nickel—see if we don’t!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2> +<p> +Winona and Florence paddled back to Camp +Karonya with the latest bundle of mending, very, very +happy. When they came ashore, they were met by a +committee consisting of Adelaide, Louise, Helen and +Marie. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve got a plan for your being in the picture,” +said they very nearly in unison. “We can decorate +the boat with the apparatus in it——” +</p> +<p> +But Winona waved a lordly hand. +</p> +<p> +“Boat me no boats,” said she. “I’m going to have +Billy Lee’s canoe to decorate. We’re going out this +afternoon, or maybe to-morrow afternoon, up to +Wampoag where the shops are, and we’re going to +buy out the shops with decorations. Going to get +honorable mention, anyway!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then you’d really rather!” said Helen. “I’m +<em>so</em> glad. But it won’t seem natural not to have you on +the float, Winnie!” +</p> +<p> +“Just as natural as not having Marie,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Marie quietly, “not exactly. You’re +like the spirit of the whole thing, Win, and I think +they ought to have you.” +</p> +<p> +“You can’t,” said Winona, sitting down on the +grass and drawing her knees up to her chin. +</p> +<p> +“We could if we canned Nataly,” said Louise the +rebel, half under her breath. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you can’t do that,” said the other girls +in a breath. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +</p> +<p> +The truth was, Nataly Lee was the one dark spot—the +one cinder, as you might say—in the Camp Fire. +She did not particularly like doing her share of the +work, she could not be made to take an interested part +in the work for honor beads, and she acted generally +as if she was a caller who was much older and more +languid than the others. It was, in short, very much +as Louise had said when she offered to join—she was +like a kitten who refused to be anything but a cat. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what Nataly’s doing here, anyway,” +Louise went on. “And we’d be a lot happier without +her. I wish she’d go home and look after her complexion. +She can’t do it properly here—anybody can see +that!” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t do what?” said a languid voice. It isn’t +a good thing to discuss your friends too freely if they’re +anywhere at all around, because they are exceedingly +likely to overhear or partly hear. And this is just what +happened now. Nataly herself walked out of the strip +of woods that separated the camp from the river, and +sat down by them. +</p> +<p> +“I thought I heard you talking about me,” she +said. +</p> +<p> +“We were,” said Louise, quite unruffled. “At +least I was. I was saying that you couldn’t look after +your complexion properly here in the woods, and that +I thought you’d be happier away from our rude young +society!” +</p> +<p> +Nataly did not see in the least that Louise was +laughing at her, but Helen did, and gave Louise a severe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +pinch. “Guying” was something that the camp spirit +allowed only if the victim knew what was being done +to her. But where Nataly was concerned it was hard +to make Louise behave. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you know,” said Nataly, “I am thinking of +going home. It makes me nervous, the idea of Aunt +Lydia being near enough to pounce down on me every +minute. She is <em>so</em> energetic. And my nerves are nearly +all right now.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you really think you will go back?” said +Winona. +</p> +<p> +“I really do, as soon as the carnival is over,” said +Nataly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, as I said,” said Winona hastily, for Louise +looked as if she were going to suggest an earlier departure, +“I’m going up to Wampoag this afternoon to +buy things with the boys.” +</p> +<p> +“I have a ’gagement to make baskets with Frances,” +said Florence, “so I can’t go with you.” +</p> +<p> +“I will if you want me,” offered Louise. “I have +various things I want to say to you alone.” +</p> +<p> +“That sounds dark and dreadful!” said Helen +good-naturedly. “I think we’d better not volunteer +to go along, Marie!” +</p> +<p> +“We couldn’t, anyway,” Marie reminded her. +“There’s a lot to do on those war-bonnets yet.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +So that afternoon Louise, Winona, Billy and Tom +paddled up to the summer resort in quest of decorations. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p> +“Have you any idea how you’re going to trim the +canoe?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve thought it all out,” said Winona. “I found +the idea in an old book of ballads Marie brought along. +It was called ‘The Ship o’ the Fiend.’” +</p> +<p> +“Pretty name!” said Louise. “Who’s going to be +the fiend? Please don’t all speak at once!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be the goat,” said Billy. “Winnie told me a +little about it. The ballad was about a girl who went off +with an old fiance, and he turned out to be a real live +demon.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Winona, “the tall topmast no taller +was than he,” it says. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I draw the line at stilts,” said Billy sleepily. +He was curled down in the bottom of the boat basking +in the sunshine, for Louise had insisted on taking a +paddle. “What do I have to do?” +</p> +<p> +“The first thing,” said Winona, “is to wake up +enough to sit up and be consulted. How much copper +wire ...” +</p> +<p> +The rest was inaudible, for Billy moved closer to +Winona, who talked to him mysteriously under her +breath. The others could hear scraps like “Japanese +auctioneer ...” “fifty yards ...” “red paper +muslin,” and such illuminating fragments. +</p> +<p> +“How much money have you got for me to spend, +Tommy?” Winona broke off to inquire. +</p> +<p> +“Four whole dollars,” he said, “earned by splitting +wood for a farmer.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +</p> +<p> +“I certainly am obliged,” she said, “and I’ll pay +it back.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll do no such thing!” he said. “I should +hope I could give my own sister a lone four dollars once +in awhile!” +</p> +<p> +“All right, you can,” said Winona soothingly. She +pulled out the paper the boys had secured and given +her, and began to read it aloud. +</p> +<p> +“Cash prizes in the canoe class, first, twenty-five +dollars, second, ten dollars, three third prizes, five +dollars each. Now you see, if I get a third prize I’ll be +a dollar in, and all the glory reflected on Camp Karonya +besides!” +</p> +<p> +They took a street-car when they got to Wampoag, +because the shopping district was a long ways off, and +it was a hot day anyway. Tom and Louise watched the +other two with curiosity, as they went from store to +store, buying things that it seemed impossible could fit +into each other; copper wire, red tinsel by the box, paper +muslin in what seemed unlimited quantities, though it +was really only a little over a dollar’s worth. Then +Winona went into one Japanese store alone, and came +out with a bagful of paper lanterns and a knobby +bundle which she refused to undo or show. They +hunted all over three streets for Greek fire, before it +occurred to Billy to go back to the hardware store where +they had bought their copper wire. He came out with +three boxes of it, labelled “Blue,” “Green” and +“White,” and seemed rather sad because they had no +lavender or gray fire in stock. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +</p> +<p> +“‘They bought a pig and some ring-bo-ree, and +no end of Stilton cheese!’” chanted Louise softly. +“How on earth are you going to connect all that crazy +stuff?” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll know, all in good time, my dear,” said +Winona sedately. “We can go home now. The worst +is over.” +</p> +<p> +“We deserve a soda, at least, for all this,” said +Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Marble-dust,” said Tom solemnly. “Some day, +Bill, if you keep on drinking sodas, you’ll turn into a +statue, and your sorrowing relatives will have to put +you up in the hall for an ornament.” +</p> +<p> +“Glad I’m as lovely as all that comes to!” said +Billy with a grin. “They couldn’t do it to you, old +fellow—you aren’t pretty enough!” +</p> +<p> +“He is pretty, too,” said Louise stoutly. “Somebody +told me only yesterday that they thought Tom +was so poetic-looking, and had a striking head.” +</p> +<p> +Billy laughed out loud, and Tom wriggled. +</p> +<p> +“I take it all back, Louise,” he said. “He <em>is</em> +beautiful.” +</p> +<p> +Tom gave a sort of mournful growl. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, cut it out, Billy!” he said. “If you really +want that soda, here’s a drug-store.” +</p> +<p> +“A striking head,” mused his sister, cocking her +own head on one side, to look at Tom from this new +point of view. “I really think you have.” +</p> +<p> +“If ever I meet the fellow who said that, he’ll find +out I have a striking fist,” muttered Thomas darkly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +walking into the drug-store ahead of the rest, and sitting +down at a table in the back. “Four walnut sundaes, +please. No, I don’t want ’em all myself. The +others are coming in the door now.” +</p> +<p> +For the next few days Winona, at a point half-way +between her camp and the Scout’s camp, worked steadily +over the paper lanterns she had bought. She covered +them all with white paper, and cut out holes in the paper +after the fashion of eyes, nose and mouth, until, if you +were not too critical, they looked like big oval skulls. If +you <em>were</em> critical, they might remind you, it is true, of +jack-o’-lanterns, but nobody was unkind enough to say +so but Tom. There were forty of them altogether, +and when they were all covered, and brought down to +camp out of the danger of being rained on, and festooned +about Winona’s tent, the effect was truly awful. +Tom, who had been watching his sister’s performance +with interest, came over one day with five little paper-mache +lanterns which he presented to her, two in the +shape of black cats, and three like owls. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know yet what you’re going to do,” he +said, “but if Bill’s going to wear horns and hoofs, and +those things over the cot are meant for skulls, I should +think these would come in handy.” +</p> +<p> +“They’re just exactly what I wanted!” said +Winona with rapture, hanging them with the rest. +“Now I’ve nothing to do but my dress.” +</p> +<p> +She showed him several yards of black paper muslin +and a sheet of gilt paper. “It doesn’t look promising, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +I know,” she said, “but it will be quite nice, I think, +when it’s done.” +</p> +<p> +And it really was. Helen helped her to fit it, and +they made it with the dull side out, close-fitting, and +covered with the stars and crescents of the traditional +witch-dress. She was done with it, even to the pointed +hat and black half-mask, in very good time. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” she said to the boys, standing over Billy’s +canoe where it had been pulled up in the grass, “now +comes the tug of war. Tom, you said you would help +me.” +</p> +<p> +“I did,” said he. “What shall I do?” +</p> +<p> +“Then please nail these poles to the end of the +canoe. They’re about six feet high, aren’t they?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Do you want them sticking straight up into +the air?” +</p> +<p> +“Straight up, please,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“Billy’s flying around in the town like a hen with +its head cut off,” said Tom as he proceeded to do what +his sister asked, “trying to buy something he won’t tell +about. And I found Louise and Helen up at Camp +Karonya, winding tinsel into balls like fury. Strikes +me you ought to share that five you won’t get with the +whole crowd of us.” +</p> +<p> +“So I will when I get it,” said Winona serenely. +“Now will you please brace those end-poles thoroughly, +and nail cross-pieces on them about a foot from the +top?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s easy to tell people how to do things,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +Tom; but he was clever at carpentering, and had it done +in a very short time. +</p> +<p> +Then Winona took the copper wire she had bought, +and strung it from end to end of the cross-pieces, till +the effect was something like that of a half-done cat’s +cradle. Then she stood off and looked at her work, +walking round and round it, as a kitten looks at a +mirror. +</p> +<p> +“That wire ought to bear about twenty pounds, +don’t you think?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see why not,” said Tom, sitting down on +the grass to watch her. +</p> +<p> +“Now I’ll begin, then,” she said. “Thank you for +making the foundation.” +</p> +<p> +She took up the copper wire again, and strung more +lines of it from end to end of the canoe, and one around +the gunwale. She laced still more up and down in +irregular points, up and down the side-wires, till the +effect was that of an irregularly pointed fence, or +crown, as high as the end pieces in some parts, and low +enough, at the ends, to show the people seated in it. +</p> +<p> +“Looks like a cross-section of Alps,” said Tom +critically. “Are you going to be the Blue Alsatian +Mountains?” +</p> +<p> +“There are two classes of people who should never +see a thing half-done,” answered his sister, standing +off again to get the effect. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t it look like anything else at all?” she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +asked, abandoning her superior attitude, and throwing +herself on his mercy. +</p> +<p> +“Well, something like a fever-chart,” said he. +</p> +<p> +Winona said no more—there didn’t seem to be any +use. She picked up her ball of red tinsel, and began +to wind it around and within, and across, every point +of the “fever-chart,” till there was a solid network. +It was not a bad imitation of a springing fire. +</p> +<p> +“Now do you see?” she said. “That’s a big, red +blaze coming out of the canoe, and when we’ve lighted +the Greek fire inside it ought to look real enough to +burn you.” +</p> +<p> +“Not bad,” admitted Tom. “But I don’t see its +connection with a black bonnet and forty jack-o’-lanterns.” +</p> +<p> +“You will by-and-bye,” said his sister, going on +with her work. It went very smoothly after that, +except that Puppums <em>would</em> jump inside, and then +looked at her in a wronged way because the canoe did +not float off. After the tinsel was on nothing remained +to do but to wrap the end-pieces with black muslin, +so they would not show at night, and to cover the canoe +with the same material. The lanterns did not need to +be hung till the last moment. +</p> +<p> +The night of the carnival Camp Karonya, very much +excited, sailed down the river in all the glory of its fleet, +about six. The Indian village was a great success as +far as looks went. Whether it would be as handsome +a float as the ones it would have to compete with nobody +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +could tell yet. As a canoe takes less time to engineer +than a float, and also as the boys hadn’t come yet, +Winona stayed behind a little while. At about seven +Tom and Billy came up the river in another of the +Scouts’ canoes. Winona, in her witch costume, with +her lanterns, was waiting for them by the decorated +canoe. +</p> +<p> +Billy was most gorgeous. He had hired a red +Mephisto costume, evidently from a real costumer—horns, +hoofs and all. His full grandeur didn’t show +till he sprang out on the grass, because he had modestly +shrouded himself in a raincoat, and his mask was +in its pocket. But he snapped the mask on, tossed +the coat off, and struck an attitude, before he helped +Tom to lay the canoe in the water. +</p> +<p> +“You certainly are grand and gorgeous, Billy,” +said Winona. “All you need is a spotlight running +round after you to look just like the man in the opera.” +</p> +<p> +“I feel like a freak,” admitted Billy. “Got everything, +Winona? We’d better be starting.” +</p> +<p> +Winona veiled her own splendors with an evening +wrap of Mrs. Bryan’s which had, fortunately, been +brought along, and stepped in. Tom trailed behind. +</p> +<p> +“I believe I’m frightened,” said Winona. “What +about you, Billy?” +</p> +<p> +“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “We +can’t very well upset, tied to a string of other craft, +and maybe we’ll get a fourth prize—if they only have +four entries in the canoe class.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get one anyway!” declared Winona +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +proudly, throwing her head back and forgetting to be +nervous. +</p> +<p> +They were early at the dock. The Camp float was +moored quite a little way from the place where they +had to be, but they could see each other, and called +across. After that Winona did not feel so lonely. The +boys helped her to light and tie on the lanterns, all so +realistically like skulls, and when she saw how very +ghostly they looked she felt that she hadn’t lived in +vain. +</p> +<p> +“Have you the skeleton, Billy?” she demanded +anxiously of Mephisto, who was wrestling with a bundle +in the back canoe. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is,” he said, finally producing it. “I had +rather a time getting old Hiraoka to rent it, but an +auctioneer will do anything for enough yen.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he unwrapped a neat, papier-mache +skeleton of nearly life-size, which was of Japanese +origin, and which, as he said, he had rented from the +Japanese store of Mr. Tashima Hiraoka for this night +only. +</p> +<p> +“Billy!” said Winona remorsefully, “how much +did you pay for Mr. Bones?” +</p> +<p> +“No time to worry about that now,” said Billy. +“Where do you want him put?” +</p> +<p> +Winona saw that he was right, and put off insisting +on paying for the skeleton till time should be less +precious than now. They swung it above the tinsel +flames, on wire loops prepared for it, so that it turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +gently, as if roasting. Tom looked on in respectful +admiration. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s the last thing,” said Billy, producing the +mysterious bundle that had excited Louise so the day +they were shopping for decorations. +</p> +<p> +“Those are Billy’s idea,” said Winona, pulling the +objects out as she spoke. “They just put the finishing +touch on, don’t they, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +“I should say they did!” said Tom appreciatively. +They were twenty small red demons rather like Billy, +and the same number of tiny skeletons, all with waggle-some +hands and feet. +</p> +<p> +“Blessed forever be Japanese stores!” said +Winona. “Just hang them around carelessly, boys, as if +they were hovering over the fire, you know. Billy, do +you think you can make the demons look pleased and +the skeletons unhappy?” +</p> +<p> +“You never know what you can do till you try,” +said Billy with his usual poise. He pulled some wire +out of the back canoe, which, like the Mother’s Bag +in the Swiss Family Robinson, seemed to have everything +in the world in it. The boys set to work with +such a will that the last demon was wriggling naturally +as life, and there was ten minutes yet to spare, when +they were done. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2> +<p> +Billy helped Winona in, felt for the matches, and +got in himself. Tom pushed them off from shore. It +was all done with the solemnity of a funeral procession. +Winona looked at the boys’ excited faces, and laughed. +</p> +<p> +“We’re not being rowed off to execution,” she +explained, though she felt a little excited herself. “I’m +perfectly calm—O-oh! Gracious! What’s that?” +</p> +<p> +“That” was a long, unearthly wail which seemed +to come from the inside of the canoe itself. It increased +and quavered and howled and died down again. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s us,” said Billy placidly. “Tom and I +borrowed Boots Morris’s father’s Gabriel horn and fastened +it into the canoe this afternoon. Forgot to tell +you. Don’t you like it?” +</p> +<p> +“Lovely!” gasped Winona. “Only—only it was a +little sudden, the first time. I thought Mr. Bones was +expressing his feelings.” +</p> +<p> +“It adds to the effect all right,” said Billy proudly. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly does!” said Winona. “Yes, we have +a tow-rope, marshal. Tie us on, please.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you do look like you came from somewhere +else!” said the marshal—he was the dock owner by day—as +he fastened the “Ship o’ the Fiend” into line. “I +don’t want anything more like D. T.’s than you be!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I call a delicate compliment,” said +Billy, lifting his mask so he could grin with freedom. +</p> +<p> +“M’ yes, I suppose so,” said Winona doubtfully. +“Are we going to start soon, marshal?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +</p> +<p> +“In about ten minutes,” said the marshal, seeming +to be still entranced with the canoe and its decorations. +“They burnt one o’ my great-grandmothers, a couple +o’ hundred years ago, for doin’ not much worse’n you +be,” he added. +</p> +<p> +“We ought to get something, then,” said Winona, +thinking more of a possible prize than of the marshal’s +family history. +</p> +<p> +“You sure ought!” he said darkly, handing them +a number and passing on to the next boat. +</p> +<p> +The ten minutes seemed very long and tedious, but +between eating some sandwiches which Winona had +thoughtfully provided, exchanging compliments with +the neighboring boats, and getting their Greek fire ready +to set off, they passed somehow. The whistle blew, +and the long trail of boats, canoes, and floats started +on its slow and winding way. The float was tied far +off, at the beginning of the procession, where they could +not see it. Marie’s canoe was just in sight, but not +near enough to talk to—a big silver cobweb spotted +with lantern-flies, and Marie and Edith dressed as the +Spider and the Fly, at either end of it. +</p> +<p> +Finally the whistle blew. Billy tucked a final piece +of sandwich beneath his mask, and resigned himself to +tending the Greek fire for the rest of the evening. As +for Winona, finding nothing particular to do, she pulled +a book out from under a cushion and began to read. +</p> +<p> +“Winona, would you kindly lay away that piece of +literatuah and wo’k the Gabriel ho’n?” asked Billy in +the softest and Kentuckiest of voices. Winona had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +observed that when Billy’s Southern accent reasserted +itself he was generally in deadly earnest. She meekly +put the book away and began to press the bulb of the +horn at regular intervals. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I do wish we could see us, and be us, too!” +she said in one of the intervals. +</p> +<p> +“M’m! Don’t I?” said Billy. “I don’t know, +though. Maybe we’d be disappointed.” +</p> +<p> +“I know we wouldn’t,” said Winona confidently, +and pressed the horn again, which put a stop to conversation. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Tom, on the grandstand, was seeing +them, and being very proud of his relationship to the +“Ship o’ the Fiend.” The black-covered canoe, with +its belt of shivering fire and its weird occupants, showed +up gloriously. The irregularly hung lanterns looked +more like skulls than Winona had dared to hope in her +wildest moments. All the little demons and skeletons +danced realistically on their invisible wires in the air, +and, crown of all, the nearly-life-size skeleton swung +above, with the witch and the demon watching him +from either end, as he roasted above the Greek fire. +An occasional shriek from the Gabriel horn gave the +final touch. The whole thing was like a vision out of +a Poe story, or some German goblin-legend. The people +took to clapping as they went by. +</p> +<p> +“I believe they’re clapping for us!” said Winona +awedly, as a burst of it came to their ears over the +water. +</p> +<p> +“Sure they are,” said Billy. “Shows their good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +sense, too. It’s a mighty good looking canoe we have.” +</p> +<p> +“Can we photograph you, please?” said a polite +voice before Winona could answer—and lo, the +reporter’s boat! +</p> +<p> +“This <em>is</em> glory!” said Winona, snapping down her +mask, and being frankly delighted. “Just think, Billy, +we may be in the paper!” +</p> +<p> +The reporter asked questions and fussed with his +flashlight apparatus, and finally took two exposures. +They kept very still while the flashlight was exploding, +and answered the reporters in full. +</p> +<p> +“The designer of your decorations certainly was +very clever, and had a vivid imagination,” ended the +smallest reporter as the press-boat went on its way. +</p> +<p> +Winona sat up straight, and looked very proud. +</p> +<p> +“At last I’m appreciated!” she said. “Don’t you +wish you had a vivid imagination, too, Billy?” +</p> +<p> +“If you straighten up much more,” said Billy, leaning +over to light fresh Greek fire, “you will certainly +hit the decorations, and something will bust.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care!” and Winona laughed excitedly. +“It’s my first chance at being famous, and you can’t +think how nice it is! Listen to that!” +</p> +<p> +The applause along the banks was certainly continuous +enough to make someone older and staider than +Winona happy. The canoes were making the circuit of +the upper part of the lake now. In the centre was the +royal float, where the king and queen of the carnival sat. +</p> +<p> +When the procession had gone down one side of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +the lake and up the other it would make a circle about +this royal float, and the prizes would be awarded. +</p> +<p> +They were almost through with this, only a little +way from the royal float, when a small green canoe full +of sightseers whirled against them, sent by some sudden +twist of wind or water. And—neither Winona nor +Billy could ever understand how it happened—the shock +of the blow, or perhaps some mischievous person in +the other boat, parted the ropes that held Winona’s +canoe lightly to the canoes before and behind it, and +sent them far to one side of the lake, out of the radius +of the lights. The wind, naturally, took this particular +time to blow hard. The decorations made the canoe +top-heavy and hard to guide, and they dared not paddle fast +for fear of upsetting. They could see from their +outer darkness the canoes they had been between being +hastily tied together. +</p> +<p> +Winona paddled frantically. “Do you think we can +get back in time to be judged?” she panted. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll try,” said Billy, working his paddle more +slowly, but with greater effect than Winona’s. +</p> +<p> +“No—oh, Billy, Billy! There goes the signal—they’ve +given the launch prize, and they are to give +the float and rowboat prizes right afterwards, and +then the canoes! There goes the gun again. Oh, <em>dear!</em>” +</p> +<p> +Winona had really been working harder than she +should have over her canoe decorations, and helping +with the float besides, as well as doing her routine camp-work. +She had been “all keyed up” by the evening’s +excitement, and her hopes of a prize, and this sudden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +downfall of her hopes was too much for her self-control. +Billy saw two large tears roll down her cheeks +from under her mask. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Winnie! It certainly is a shame!” he said. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose that horrid little gunboat canoe named +‘Flossie’ will get our prize,” mourned Winona, casting +fortitude to the wind—which must have carried it +quite a way, for it was blowing more and more strongly. +“I know we’d have had one of the fourth prizes, too!” +</p> +<p> +“You have the glory, anyway,” he said. “Everybody +applauded us more than they did anything else +except that big Queen Elizabeth float.” +</p> +<p> +“But I wanted the money, and I wanted to have +the Camp Fire have a prize! There, Billy, I won’t be a +coward any more. I’m tired, I think, or I wouldn’t have +acted like this kind of an idiot,” she said bravely, pushing +up her mask to dry her eyes, and trying to smile. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve worn yourself out over this decoration +business, that’s what the matter is,” said Billy. “Do +you mind telling me what you want the money for?” +</p> +<p> +“No, certainly not. I wanted to get a pair of silk +stockings apiece for Adelaide and me. I know she +wants a pair dreadfully, because she never had them, +and if I got a pair like them for myself she’d be more +apt to take them—and—well, I wanted a pair, too!” +</p> +<p> +Billy registered an inward vow that his Aunt Lydia +should manage it just as soon as it was humanly possible. +He knew that she would do more than that for +Winona, for whom she had conceived a strong liking. +</p> +<p> +“Poor kid, she’s all worked up about it,” he murmured, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +forgetting his own disappointment, for he, too, +had hoped that his canoe would get a prize. +</p> +<p> +But help was in sight. About five minutes later +(though Winona and Billy always swore it was a full +half hour) they felt a violent rocking, and heard the +insistent wuff-wuff-wuff of a steam launch. +</p> +<p> +“Here, catch a-hold and tie yourself on,” said the +welcome voice of the marshal out of the darkness, +without the least waste of words or time. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Billy’s excited fingers could do it they +were fastened to the end of the marshal’s official launch, +and bobbing off towards the royal float at a tremendous +rate of speed. +</p> +<p> +“How did you come to come hunt for us?” Winona +called to the marshal as they went. +</p> +<p> +“You were knocked out o’ line an’ got blowed away, +didn’t you?” answered the marshal. +</p> +<p> +“Then we’re going to be judged—we’re going to +be judged!” she rejoiced. “Oh, do you think we may +get a prize yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Shouldn’t wonder but you got something,” said +the laconic marshal. “Here we be.” +</p> +<p> +He bent over and unfastened them. +</p> +<p> +“You’re late, you see,” he said, “and you’ll just +have to paddle out an’ get your sentence alone.” +</p> +<p> +Winona’s heart beat frantically, but she straightened +up in the canoe, and she and Billy, standing up at +front and back (it was risky work with the top-heavy +decorations, but they never thought of that till afterwards), +paddled out into the open space before the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +royal float. All the other entries had been judged. +Over in the place where the prize-winners were Winona +had time to see that the Camp Fire float and Marie’s +canoe were herded with the others. So even if she got +nothing the glory of Camp Karonya was safe. It was +trying to wait there alone, with everyone staring, but +it did not last long. The red-and-gold herald came +forward very soon. +</p> +<p> +“First prize, canoe class!” he said—and Winona +almost lost her balance. “Awarded to Miss Winona +Merriam of Camp Karonya, and Mr. William Lee, of +Boy Scouts’ Patrol Number Six, for their entry ‘The +Ship of the Fiend.’ Twenty-five dollars.” +</p> +<p> +The clapping burst out again. When it was done +Winona and Billy started to paddle back to the prize-winners’ +enclosure, but a gesture of the herald stopped +them. They paused, a little puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“Do they want us to say thank you?” wondered +Winona. +</p> +<p> +Before Billy could turn the canoe the left-hand +red-and-gold herald walked forth. +</p> +<p> +“Silver loving cup for greatest originality of conception +also goes to Miss Merriam and Mr. Lee,” read +the herald. +</p> +<p> +They were clapped again—they could see Tom, on +the grandstand, standing up and waving his hat—and +then at last the marshal beckoned them to cross to the +sparkling ring of other craft in the background. The +winning launches, floats, rowboats and canoes were to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +act as a guard of honor to escort the royal float back to +the grandstand, where the court carriages for the king +and queen of the carnival waited. +</p> +<p> +They went to this place at last, and paused by their +friends, the Camp Fire float and Marie’s canoe. +</p> +<p> +“We got a fourth prize!” called Marie gayly as +Winona stopped by her. “Oh, Winona, you darling! +You always were a mascot!” +</p> +<p> +“Marie always was an angel,” thought Winona to +herself. Edith was not so selfless. +</p> +<p> +“Congratulations, Win,” she said bravely, holding +out a tinsel-wrapped wrist across the canoes. “I’m +glad you got it—but I wish we could have had something +better. I think we deserved it.” +</p> +<p> +“You certainly did,” said Winona warmly. “But +it doesn’t much matter, you know, Edith. The main +thing people will notice is that Camp Karonya landed +three prizes. And think of that loving-cup sitting up, +with ‘Won by Camp Karonya,’ on it!” +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t you going to have your name put on it?” +asked Edith. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly not!” said Winona. “It’s a Camp +trophy. I shall put my name on the back of the check +for twenty-five dollars. That is pleasure enough.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we’ve ‘done noble,’ all of us,” said Marie. +The canoes were paddling off by now, but the going was +slow, and they could still talk. +</p> +<p> +“What did the float get?” asked Winona. “You +know we were blown off in the dark, and lost track +of events till the marshal came after us.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +</p> +<p> +“Second,” answered both girls together. +</p> +<p> +“You were the belle of the ball,” added Marie. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t think we did so badly,” declared +Edith. “A first, second and a fourth prize all to one +camp. I hope nobody thinks we got more than our +share.” +</p> +<p> +“We didn’t,” said Winona. “Oh, I’m so happy!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m rather pleased myself,” said Billy’s quiet voice +from the other end of the canoe. +</p> +<p> +But it was not until the royal float had been escorted +home, and everything was broken up, and Tom and +Billy were paddling Winona back to camp, that he said +what he really thought. +</p> +<p> +“I’m mighty glad you got that first prize,” he said. +“You deserved it if anybody ever did, for being such +a little sport about dropping out of the float. I’d blow +a lot of that money in right away if I were you, to +congratulate myself.” +</p> +<p> +“After I’ve paid back what I owe certain people,” +said Winona, “I shall divide with the Camp treasury. +Even then I’ll have a lot more than I ever thought of +getting.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway, you were a real sport, and you deserved +everything that was coming to you,” repeated Billy, in +which Tom agreed with him. And when your brother +approves of you and says so you can generally be sure +that you have done something remarkably right. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2> +<p> +Next day was the “cold gray dawn of the morning +after.” Not that it was particularly cold or gray, but +there was all the unnailing of the float to do, and the +dismantling of the two decorated canoes. The girls +wound the tinsel off carefully for use on future Christmas +trees, and packed away in a box what other decorations +were not perishable, for you never know when +you’re going to need things. Otherwise they sat around +and gloated softly over Camp Karonya’s exceeding +brilliancy in carrying off prizes in large quantities. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan would not let Winona divide her money +with the Camp, because they had enough already to see +them through the rest of the time they were to spend +there; and then, too, the second prize that the float had +won was fifteen dollars. +</p> +<p> +Nothing else memorable happened that day, except +that Nataly Lee left for home. She was thinner and +in better condition than she had been when she came, +but she frankly didn’t like the life. To her, carrying +water, instead of being a lark, was a nuisance. She had +no particular pride in working for beads, and it was +thought she was hungry for paper novels. It worried +her, too, that she was getting burned brown. So she +went back to her mother. The girls saw her off, and +sang her a cheer, and were as good as they could be. +But it is not to be denied that Camp Karonya felt a +little relief at her going. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +</p> +<p> +After that nothing happened but regular camp work +for three days. And then Louise proceeded to distinguish +herself. It was to be expected. +</p> +<p> +Tom and Billy had taken Winona and Louise off +for a day’s fishing in the canoe. As usual, Winona and +Louise provided the lunch, the boys the fishing-tackle +and the canoe, and the fish were to be divided at the end +of the day. They had fished most of the lazy, sunny +morning, and it was noon. They climbed out of the +canoe by a spring, washed their hands, and set out the +lunch; the canoe was too fishy to be used as a dining-hall. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think that four of us can possibly eat +all that?” inquired Billy, eying the piles of sandwiches, +the veal loaf, the whole cake and the can of pears which +graced the paper napkins on the grass. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” explained Winona, “the truth is, Louise +and I rather doubled up on this lunch. We were both +afraid there wouldn’t be enough, and each went separately +and brought half a chocolate cake. You see it’s +cut down the middle. I merely joined the twin halves +for the sake of looks. But do you think that’s too many +sandwiches for four people with real appetites?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t,” said Tom decidedly. “I’ll attend to +anything that’s left over. A very nice amount of lunch—just +right. Watch me!” +</p> +<p> +But they did not watch him because they were +otherwise engaged. None of them had small appetites, +and they all did good work. Just the same when they +were through there were a generous piece of cake, a fat +slice of veal loaf, and seven sandwiches left. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +</p> +<p> +“I told you so,” said Billy. “Here, Tommy, it is +up to you. Have these seven nice sandwiches.” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t be done,” said Tom regretfully. “I’ve had +that many. I had three pieces of cake, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t matter!” said Billy. “A gentleman’s +word of honor——” +</p> +<p> +He prepared to jump on Tom and hold him, while +Louise held a sandwich ready to insert. +</p> +<p> +“Ow!” said Tom. “Help! This is cruelty to +animals. Pry him off, Winnie!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, let up, please!” said Winona. “You know, +he might explode, and mother’d feel badly.” +</p> +<p> +Billy took one knee off, and Tom wriggled more +vigorously. Louise relented, and the two girls were +trying to pull Billy off Tom. They had almost succeeded, +when a little rustle behind them made Winona, +whose senses were the most alert, let go and turn. The +others followed her eyes. They sat up and looked, and +Tom jumped to his feet and began to dust himself off. +</p> +<p> +The newcomer, who was a most forlorn and bedraggled +little girl, spoke very welcome words. +</p> +<p> +“Me’s very hundry!” she said pathetically. +</p> +<p> +“You poor little thing!” said Louise. “Come +here, dear; there’s lots for you to eat.” The little girl +made straight for her. Louise got out a fresh paper +napkin, and piled sandwiches, loaf, cake and all on it. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute,” said Billy. “Is all that good for so +little a girl—hadn’t you better give her one at a time?” +</p> +<p> +Louise held the veal loaf poised in air on her fork. +“Will your mother let you eat this?” she asked. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src="images/illus-214.jpg" alt="THE CHILD BEGAN TO EAT EVERYTHING AT ONCE" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THE CHILD BEGAN TO EAT EVERYTHING AT ONCE</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span></div> +<p> +The bedraggled small child sat down on the grass, +as if the words were an invitation. She was a pretty, +dirty child of perhaps five, dressed only in a soiled and +ragged underwaist and petticoat, and with a mane of +very long and heavy hair, all tangles and elf-locks. +Her hair was yellow and her eyes big and blue, and she +would have been pretty had she been cared-for looking. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t got any mother,” she said, “just Vicky. +She lets me.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor little thing!” said Louise again, and handed +her the veal loaf. The child began to eat everything at +once, with an eagerness which made it certain she had +told the truth, at least, about being hungry. +</p> +<p> +“What’s your name, kiddie? You’ll tell me, won’t +you?” asked Billy, when she seemed to have taken the +edge off her appetite. He bent down to her with a +sympathetic expression which he possessed at times, +and which—or something about him—won the hearts of +most small children he had dealings with. +</p> +<p> +“Sandy,” she said through large mouthfuls. +</p> +<p> +“Sandy what?” inquired Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Sandy Mitchell. Gimme more cake?” +</p> +<p> +As she had had two large slices, it was thought best +not to give her any more. +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, no!” said Winona, as Louise was cutting +it, in spite of prudence. “Not another bit. We don’t +want her to die on our hands. You’d better come over +here by the spring, dear, and let me wash your hands.” +</p> +<p> +Sandy got up immediately, with the placid remark, +“It might-a given me a pain, anyway,” and allowed her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +hands to be washed, and dried on a fresh paper napkin. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little cowed thing!” exclaimed Louise at +this instant obedience. “Sandy, dear, won’t your people +be worried about you?” +</p> +<p> +“Nope,” said Sandy. +</p> +<p> +“And where do you live?” +</p> +<p> +“Way, way off,” she said. “We just comed. I’ll +show you to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor little dear thing!” said Louise. “How +pretty she is! Winnie, I’ve a good mind to adopt her.” +</p> +<p> +“Having only five at home,” murmured Tom. +</p> +<p> +“From the way she talks her people wouldn’t care,” +said Louise. “Maybe Camp Karonya could take care +of her. We will till we go back, anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“She must belong to one of those poor families +along the west branch,” said Tom. “Three miles +away, and we can’t possibly get there by canoeing, because +we’d have to paddle back seven miles before we +could paddle over the three. Who’s going to walk +three miles and a half by the thermometer to take the +lady home? Don’t all speak at once.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you live up there?” Louise asked her. “And +does your father drink?” +</p> +<p> +“Yep,” said Sandy. “Favver? Course he dwinks. +Evvybody dwinks.” +</p> +<p> +“Think of being brought up to think things like +that,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you think,” suggested Winona, “that we’d +better take her back to camp? I don’t know the way +to the place Tom talks about, and maybe it would be best +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +for Mrs. Bryan to take her anyway, if they do drink.” +</p> +<p> +“Good idea,” said everybody. Sandy herself +seemed pleased, and attached herself to them as readily +as a stray puppy would have done. They cleared up +leisurely, then got back into the canoe, taking the child +in, too. It was rather a close fit, though it was an +eighteen-foot canoe, but they managed it. She was no +more trouble than Puppums would have been—Puppums, +fortunately, had been left with Florence. They +had a good day with the fishing, and trailed into Camp +Karonya at six with fish for breakfast; and Sandy. +</p> +<p> +“Good luck!” were Tom’s parting words. “We’ll +come to-morrow and help you take her back, if you +like.” +</p> +<p> +“You needn’t bother,” said his sister. “We’ll take +the faithful rowboat.” +</p> +<p> +“We aren’t going to take her back!” insisted +Louise. “I’m going to adopt her. Sandy, wouldn’t +you like to live with me? <em>I’d</em> dress you in nice clothes +and give you a dolly.” +</p> +<p> +“An’ five cents?” demanded Sandy, “An’ things +to eat?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the poor baby!” said Louise. “She’s had +to think about money and food and grown-up things +like the poor little children you read about in the pamphlets. +Yes, indeed, you shall, Sandy.” +</p> +<p> +“She looks well-fed,” said Tom. “Well, good +luck. Don’t get a reputation for collecting them—you +mayn’t be able to dispose of orphans as easily as you +can kittens.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +</p> +<p> +They parted, and Louise carried Sandy into camp. +They arrived as supper was about ready. The Blue +Birds carried the fish off to the ice-box (it was literally +a box, a very ingenious arrangement of sawdust and +wood which had meant a bead for Elizabeth) and the +rest clustered about Louise’s treasure-trove. +</p> +<p> +“Better find out if she really needs adopting,” advised +Marie as they sat around the long table, and Sandy +exercised an appetite as large as her noon one. +</p> +<p> +“With a drunken father, and no mother, and looking +like that?” fired up Louise. “I’m going to wash +her after supper.” +</p> +<p> +There seemed no connection between washing her +and adopting her, but there evidently was to Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Want me to help?” offered Winona. “It ought +to be more fun than washing Puppums.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope she won’t howl and try to climb over the +side of the tub, the way he does,” said Louise. “Yes, +thank you, I’d love to be helped.” +</p> +<p> +A warm bath in a foot-tub, following directly on a +large meal of corn fritters, baked potatoes and huckle-berries, +ought nearly to have killed Sandy, but it didn’t. +</p> +<p> +“I never dreamed you meant to do more than wash +her face and hands,” protested Marie, who, as the +guardian of the Blue Birds, had ideas about such things. +But it was too late. Anyway, there was no visible +effect. Sandy awakened next morning, well, happy, and +still hungry. They had given her Nataly’s bunk with +Mrs. Bryan. Helen bunked with Elizabeth, because +Nataly said the girls tossed, and Mrs. Bryan didn’t. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +</p> +<p> +While Sandy slept Louise and Winona were busy. +Louise woke Winona at five, and they heated water, +filled the charcoal-iron, and washed and ironed and +mended Sandy’s underclothes. While Louise darned +Sandy’s socks, Winona ironed the garments dry. Then +they foraged about the store-shed, which was a warm +place at that time of year even in the early morning, +and found a white dress of Florence’s which Winona +thought she had remembered bringing. +</p> +<p> +When found it proved much too large for Sandy, +but Louise was still enthusiastic, and took it up with +such good will that two of the tucks she put in had to +be ripped out again when they came to dress Sandy in it. +They polished the small strapped shoes the child had +taken off, sewed the button of each on more firmly, +and decided that they looked almost new. +</p> +<p> +Then Winona went back to awaken her own little +sister. When she returned to Louise’s tent she found +her friend had finished giving Sandy another bath. +She was just dressing her. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe this poor little thing knows what +a thorough bath is,” she greeted Winona over the child’s +head. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I do, too,” said Sandy. “But I had one last +night, an’ you’ve been an’ given me anuvver now!” +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ll box her hair, too,” went on Louise. +“It is getting rather common now, but she has so much, +and it’s so untidy, that it would really be the best thing +even if I didn’t keep her.” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t do her hair till you’re sure we’re going +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +to keep her,” objected Winona. “Her people mightn’t +like it.” +</p> +<p> +“A dissipated father and a poor little overworked +elder sister—Vicky is your sister, isn’t she, Sandy?—and +a home where they don’t even wash or feed her? +Poor people haven’t time to take care of hair like this. +Anyway, they haven’t done it, for it was tangled +awfully,” she finished conclusively. +</p> +<p> +“But it’s so pretty!” protested Winona. “Just +look at it, nearly to her waist, and thick and curly, +and such a lovely gold color!” +</p> +<p> +“So much the worse for her health,” said Louise +as promptly as Red-Riding-Hood’s wolf. “Sandy, +wouldn’t you like your hair cut nice and short, so it +wouldn’t get tangled any more?” +</p> +<p> +“An’ twousers?” demanded Sandy hopefully. +“Gee, zat’s gweat!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll have to stop her using slang,” said Louise. +“No, dear, not exactly twousers, but—I could get her +some overalls, couldn’t I, Win?” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Then I will,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“You’re gweat, too,” said Sandy, turning around +where she sat on Louise’s lap, and throwing both little +bare arms around her neck and kissing her. Louise +kissed her back warmly. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t she a dear?” she said. “Winnie, will you +please hand me the scissors?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Winona, “I won’t. It’s wicked to spoil +pretty hair like that.” And she walked out of the tent. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll det ’em,” said Sandy, slipping down and bringing +them to Louise from the table at the end of the tent. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s a piece of ribbon to tie it with, if you won’t +cut it off,” said Winona, reappearing with a wide length +of blue taffeta. +</p> +<p> +“No, thank you,” said Louise, cutting industriously +and very neatly. “It would just be in her eyes all the +time. I’m going to cut it straight across her eyebrows, +like a little boy’s.” +</p> +<p> +“I did it to all my dolls once,” said Winona. She +sat down, though, and watched Louise till she was done. +</p> +<p> +Louise had washed the little girl’s hair when she +gave her the second bath, and when it was even and +short enough to suit her she finished dressing the child +in her white frock, and set her on the grass outside, to +dry in the sunshine. She gave her a picture book to look +at to keep her amused. The bobbed locks, thick and +curly, fluffed out charmingly in a yellow bush around +the sweet little face. +</p> +<p> +“It’s becoming,” admitted Winona. “She looks +like a cherub, or a choir-boy on a Christmas card. +There is the signal for breakfast. You just got her dry +in time.” +</p> +<p> +“Breakfast?” said Sandy, brightening. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little darling!” said Louise, catching and +kissing her. “I don’t believe she ever had anything +to eat before she came here!” +</p> +<p> +They went to breakfast in state, and Sandy’s golden +aureole and clean white frock made quite a sensation +at the table. They piled things up for her to sit on, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +she was put where Mrs. Bryan could reach her, and +argue with her easily if she misbehaved. But she acted +very well indeed. Her table-manners were good, considering, +she talked without the least shyness, and managed +to eat a very large breakfast. Louise beamed with +pride over the impression her protegee was making. +</p> +<p> +When breakfast was over, and Sandy turned loose +again to play with Puppums and Florence, to whom +she had taken a violent fancy, Louise packed a market-basket +with everything a starving family might need. +Then she found her purse, summoned Winona, and +they took the rowboat and went forth, Sandy and +Puppums in the bottom of it. +</p> +<p> +They rowed along the west branch, a narrow stream +that doubled at right angles from the branch the camps +were on. It was lined with pretty summer cottages for +a part of the way, then after that, at the very end, came +a part that was filled with poor people who had squatted +there. But long before they came to the poorest part +Sandy desired to land. +</p> +<p> +“Here we is!” she said cheerfully, at a prosperous-looking +dock about a third of the way up. +</p> +<p> +“Not here, dearie,” said Louise. “It’s probably +some place where the poor child’s been fed,” she added +aside to Winona. +</p> +<p> +“We may as well get out, though, mayn’t we?” +suggested Winona. “Maybe they can tell us where +she comes from.” +</p> +<p> +They tied the boat and got out, and walked down a +deep lane for a while. Presently they came to a large +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +white house in the middle of a couple of acres of half-yard, +half-lawn looking land. +</p> +<p> +The doors and windows were all wide open, but +there was no one to be seen. Sandy walked into the hall +with an assured tread, took a long breath, and called +at the top of her lungs, “Vicky! Vick-ee!” +</p> +<p> +The girls stood at the door and waited, ready to +apologize for their charge’s rudeness whenever somebody +might appear. In about five minutes, during +which Sandy continued to shout, they heard a light, +slow step along the upper hall. Presently a slim, dark, +rather pretty little girl of about eleven scuffed down the +stairs. She had on a kimono over her nightgown, +though it was quite late in the morning. +</p> +<p> +“That you, Sand?” she called as she came. “Goodness, +you’re up early!” +</p> +<p> +“This is Vicky,” Sandy explained to the girls over +her shoulder. “Vicky! I’ve had two baths!” +</p> +<p> +Louise stood, for once, speechless. She hung +mechanically to the handle of the basketful of provisions, +but she was too surprised to move. It was Winona +who finally took courage to come forward and explain. +</p> +<p> +“I’m Winona Merriam,” she said, “and this is my +friend, Louise Lane. We are over at Camp Karonya, +the Camp Fire, you know. We found this little girl +yesterday, and we came over to-day to bring her home. +Does she—does she belong here?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course she does,” said Vicky. “Thank +you for bringing her. She’s always trailing off that +way, aren’t you, Sand? How long you been gone?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +</p> +<p> +“Is she your sister?” asked Louise, who had her +breath by this time. +</p> +<p> +“M’hm,” nodded Vicky. “Why—why, Alexandra +Mitchell, where’s your hair?” +</p> +<p> +“It got boxed!” exclaimed Sandy gleefully. +“Isn’t it nice?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid we’ll have to explain about that,” said +Winona bravely. “Your little sister strayed into a +little fishing-trip four of us were having yesterday, very +hungry and rather dirty, and without all her clothes on. +And from the way she talked we thought she was—well, +we washed her and dressed her, and—I’m sorry—shortened +her hair, it was so tangled. I’m ever so +sorry. I think it will grow——” +</p> +<p> +Vicky stared a minute at Alexandra, very proud +of herself, neat, clean, dressed and bobbed. Then instead +of being angry she sat down on the floor, where +she was, and burst into a fit of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“You thought—you thought—oh, my <em>goodness!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Winona. She sat down, too, and finally +went off herself. “Yes—we <em>did!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“And you brought food for the hungry family——” +Vicky’s eye fell on the large basket which +Louise still held stiffly before her. “Oh, oh, oh! And +Uncle Will’s pride, Sandy’s hair, that he made a picture +of that sold for ever so much money—oh, my goodness +<em>gracious!</em>” +</p> +<p> +She and Winona both began to laugh again. Louise +didn’t. She stood against the wall like a wax statue. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is funny,” said Vicky at last, mopping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +her eyes, “but I’m good and glad about Sandy’s hair. +It was an awful nuisance to take care of, and Uncle Will +<em>would</em> keep it that way so he could paint pictures of it. +Won’t you stay and have some breakfast? We have a +cook.” +</p> +<p> +“No, thank you,” said Louise hurriedly, “we’ve +had our breakfast.” +</p> +<p> +“What an awful noise, children!” said a voice; and +a rather rumpled man appeared. He had an absent +look, and also gave an impression of not having been +to bed all night. He had a paint-brush in his hand. +</p> +<p> +Vicky and Sandy sprang for him, hanging to him. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Uncle Will, this is two Camp Fire girls,” +said Sandy. “They cutted my hair when I was lost. +Ain’t it cute?” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Oh!</em>” said Uncle Will, and looked as aghast as +Louise had. “How did this accident happen?” +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t an accident,” said Sandy. “Louise +boxed my head, an’ gived me two baths!” +</p> +<p> +Uncle Will—so far as the girls learned that was all +the name he had—uttered another faint exclamation. +Then he dived back into his room as if he wanted to +bear the shock alone. +</p> +<p> +“I’m so sorry!” said Winona, who found she had +all the talking to do. “I’m afraid your uncle doesn’t +like it!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s only got an artistic temp’rament,” said +Vicky, as if it were a disease uncles could not help. +“I think Sandy’s goin’ to, too. Do stay to breakfast. +We’ll have things out o’ your basket if you will.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +</p> +<p> +“No, thank you,” said Winona. “I think Louise is +in a hurry to go home. Come over and see us. It isn’t +far if you have a boat.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get somebody to bring us,” said Vicky. +“I’d come now if I was dressed.” +</p> +<p> +“It wouldn’t be a bad plan if you dressed a little +earlier,” said Winona frankly. “Are there just you +two?” +</p> +<p> +“Nope,” said Vicky, “there’s Lancy, too. He’s +eight. Uncle Will tries to bring us up, but he don’t +know how so very well.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, when you come down to camp we can tell +you a lot of things if you’d like us to,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” said Vicky indifferently. “But it’s all +right this way. You can try telling us, though.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, good-bye,” said Louise—it was all she had +contributed to the conversation, but she seemed to +contribute it gladly. +</p> +<p> +So they went, still carrying the basket. +</p> +<p> +“Wait!” called Sandy’s voice behind them when +they had gone a little way. “I’m goin’ back wiv you! +You said you’d ’dopted me!” +</p> +<p> +“But we didn’t know your uncle wasn’t poor then,” +said Louise. “We can’t take you away from him.” +</p> +<p> +“You ’dopted me,” said Sandy doggedly, “an’ I’m +goin’ wiv you—so there!” And she thrust her wet +little hand into Louise’s and trotted along beside them. +“Louise—wasn’t there cake in the basket?” +</p> +<p> +“You have cake at home, dear,” said Louise. But +she looked as if she felt a little better. After all, even +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +if an orphan didn’t need adopting, it was a pleasure to +find that she liked it. +</p> +<p> +“Like you best,” insisted Sandy. “Goin’ to stay +wiv you. They don’t care!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, let’s let her, just for to-day, anyhow!” said +Winona. “I don’t believe anybody’ll mind.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Louise rather as if she wanted +to. They got into the boat again, and rowed to camp. +</p> +<p> +“Sandy,” asked Louise, “what did you mean by +saying your father drank? You haven’t any father.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I did have,” said Sandy. “And of sourse +he did dwink when there was a him. Evvybody does. +Little flowers do. My governess said so.” +</p> +<p> +“Your <em>governess!</em>” said Louise. “Is your uncle +rich enough for you to have a governess—and you go +trailing round in your underwaist and petticoat!” +</p> +<p> +“When he draws pictures an’ sells ’em he is. When +he don’t he don’t. Gimme some cake?” +</p> +<p> +Sandy was evidently quite calm about her way of +living. +</p> +<p> +“She mayn’t need adopting, but she certainly needs +reforming,” said Louise vigorously. +</p> +<p> +They were paddling past the Scouts’ camp by now. +Louise was quite willing to go past softly, but Sandy +yelled, for she saw Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, girls!” he called. “Back already? Got +all the papers signed?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” said Louise. “And, Billy, if you +ask me any more questions, I’ll jump over and drown!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2> +<p> +The Camp Fire might all grin broadly whenever it +spoke of Louise’s adoption—even more broadly than +it had at Winona’s cat-collection: but the adoptee herself +was quite serious about it. Adopted she was by +the Camp Fire in general and Louise in particular, and +adopted she meant to stay. She went home once in +awhile—there was nobody to worry about her, it +seemed, when she stayed away—but as a rule she considered +herself a Camp Fire Girl. She was too young +to be a Blue Bird, but that didn’t make any difference. +Finally she was given the official position of third sub-mascot, +ranking after Puppums and Hike the Camp +Cat. Unofficially, she got better training than she +appeared to have had for some time, for she knew that +to stay in Camp she had to obey rules. Vicky never +did come over. Once in awhile they would return +Sandy to her home, just for politeness, but it didn’t seem +to be specially required of them. +</p> +<p> +“We ought to have a grand entertainment,” declared +Marie one day, “and invite all the summer people +who bought our things.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” Louise approved, “and then, perhaps, if +we made them happy, they’d buy some more.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I was thinking of charging for the entertainment,” +demurred Marie. +</p> +<p> +“But wouldn’t it be piling things up just a wee +bit too much?” asked Louise. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” admitted Marie. +</p> +<p> +“What were you thinking of having?” asked +Winona. +</p> +<p> +It was at the end of a weekly Council Fire, and the +girls were lying about, as usual, on the hill. +</p> +<p> +“I was wondering”—from Marie a little doubtfully—“if +we could have some tableaux from Maeterlinck, +with readings. I could do the readings.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s Maeterlinck?” asked Louise cheerfully. +“Something good to eat?” +</p> +<p> +“No, you goose!” instructed Marie. “He wrote +the ‘Blue Bird,’ and—oh, a lot of plays.” +</p> +<p> +“Nice ones?” asked Louise. “Lots of people running +around doing exciting things?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” admitted Marie. “Nothing much happens. +But it’s very elevating.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t feel as if I wanted to be elevated, somehow,” +said Louise firmly, “and I’m sure those summer +people don’t; they come here to relax and enjoy themselves, +and when they want something really high-brow +they go to the movies and see bears and lions eating +each other. They can do that right in the place itself.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe they’d come to a Maeterlinck show, +either, Marie,” so said Mrs. Bryan. “We can take +him up to read this winter, if the girls want to know +more about him. But he isn’t exactly the author for a +summer entertainment—especially if we want to make +money.” +</p> +<p> +“We do,” said Marie who had a strictly practical +side to her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +</p> +<p> +“Does it have to be an author?” Helen wanted to +know. +</p> +<p> +“It seems to,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I have an idea!” exclaimed Winona, sitting up. +</p> +<p> +“Is it an author?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Yes!” said Winona, “it is!” +</p> +<p> +“Well?” from everybody. +</p> +<p> +“Samantha Allen!” cried Winona eagerly. “My +plan’s this. Have somebody dress like Samantha—you +know the pictures—and tell all about herself to begin +with. Then we could make a big, wooden frame—we +have those boards left from the float—and Samantha +could turn over the leaves of the album, and describe the +characters in her books one by one, as they were shown +in the frame. We could call it ‘Samantha’s Picter-Album,’ +or something like that.” +</p> +<p> +“I saw an entertainment that was something of that +sort once,” said Adelaide. “But it was just a frame +with old-fashioned pictures, like daguerrotypes. There +wasn’t any Samantha, or any talking. I should think +this would be lots better. But would it last a whole +evening, and make the Wampoag people think they’d +had their money’s worth?” +</p> +<p> +“I think so,” said Louise. “And anyway, if it +wasn’t so very long we could amuse the visitors by +showing them over the camp, and telling them all about +our customs and habits. Maybe we could do a folk-dance +for them afterwards.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, of course we could!” said Edith, whose +specialty it was. “We could give them an Indian +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +dance as easy as anything, and that Russian one I +learned before I came. I can teach it to eight of us.” +</p> +<p> +“I know how to dance the minuet,” suggested +Helen. “How many had it in that Washington’s Birthday +thing Miss Green’s class had last year?” +</p> +<p> +Five had, it seemed. As a minuet only needs ten +performers it was very simple to polish that up. And +all of them knew Indian dances already. So a committee +was appointed to get up the costumes. The Indian +dresses were there already. For the Russian dance +Edith thought head-dresses of paper muslin would do +and aprons of colored scrim, over white skirts and +turned-under, slipped-under-the-skirt middy blouses. +For the minuet—well, there was cheese-cloth in red +and yellow that Marie had had on her canoe; everyone +could powder her hair and contrive a ’kerchief. The +pannier draperies could be pinned into place, and broad +bodices of Winona’s black paper muslin from the canoe-trimming +could be cut and pinned into place with very +little trouble. Helen and Edith and Adelaide were told +off to see about the costuming; Edith, as she had to train +the others in dancing, had nothing but supervision to do. +Helen and Adelaide did what little actual work was +needed. +</p> +<p> +“The main thing this entertainment needs seems to +be pins,” said Helen the third day after they had decided +to have it. It was a Thursday, and they planned +the affair for the next Monday night. “We’re nearly +out of them.” +</p> +<p> +So eight papers of pins were bought, not to speak +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +of a good deal of white paper muslin. The girls were +assigned their different characters in the Album, and +each left to her own cleverness in getting up the costume. +About midway in the preparations it suddenly +dawned on the girls, who had gotten all the Samantha +books from the Wampoag library, and had their families +send them on the ones they owned, that boys were +needed. +</p> +<p> +So a committee consisting of all the sisters was sent +up the lake to borrow Boy Scouts. It wasn’t the easiest +thing in the world, for boys seem to dislike “dressing +up” as much as girls like it; but Mr. Gedney was Camp +Karonya’s friend, and they went back with all the boys +they needed promised them—if they would look after +the costumes and not expect the Scouts to rehearse. +</p> +<p> +Louise was appointed a Committee of Tickets, with +Elizabeth to help her. Louise was a born ticket-seller. +She loved it. She and Elizabeth put in most of their +waking hours exchanging bits of ecru cardboard with +small red things on them (meant for Camp Fires) for +thirty-five cents. And they did very well. They got +permission of all the drug-stores and many other stores, +to put up posters, which were camp-made, also, of +course. So by the time the fateful night arrived quite +a goodly crowd was ferried over to Camp Karonya by +the Scouts’ canoes. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +At eight precisely the audience, accommodated on +long planks which reached from box to box, saw a +curtain pulled away from between two trees. Nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +was to be seen in its place but a plump red album standing +out against a background which represented every +sheet in the camp. They had used Marie’s red cheese-cloth +after all, instead of Winona’s black paper muslin. +As for the framework, that was a work of art for which +several of the girls were responsible. It had taken all +the manual training they knew, and a little bit more—they +had had to call Tom Merriam, whose hobby was +carpentry, before they got it all right—but the general +effect was gorgeous. The audience was given a fair +amount of time to appreciate the beauty of the album, +which was about eight feet high. Then Marie stepped +out. She had been elected to the very responsible part +of Samantha because her memory was good, rather than +because she looked it. But she had done excellently +with what means she had. Two small pillows for a +foundation, a pink wrapper with large black spots, +sent on from home, an elderly bonnet borrowed from a +friendly farmer’s wife, a substantial gingham apron, +spectacles, a Paisley shawl, and a large palm-leaf fan, +completed a get-up that would have disguised Marie +Hunter effectually from her own best friend. +</p> +<p> +When she thought she had waited long enough to +give the audience a chance to appreciate her she curtsied, +and reaching over, pulled at the album cover with the +crock of a green-handled umbrella. The inside page +of the album was imitated by a frame with white muslin +tightly stretched over it, and an oval hole in the middle +for the picture. In the hole just now was a meek, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +chin-whiskered face surrounded by a high collar—Mr. Gedney, +normally. Samantha pointed to this proudly. +</p> +<p> +“Brethren and sisteren,” began Samantha, after she +had introduced herself, “this here is my lawful, though +sometimes wayward, pardner Josiah Allen. I was married +to him in a brand-new green silk gown, made +pollynay, and Mother Jones’s parlor, come twenty year +ago. Our mutual affection has been a beakin ever since, +though I can’t deny it has sputtered some once in awhile, +and burned purty low, tryin’ times like house-cleanin’ +an’ wash-days.” +</p> +<p> +She went on with the famous tale of “How the +Bamberses borrowed Josiah,” cutting it short when she +heard the tiny bell behind the scene tinkle, as a signal +that another picture was ready. Then she jerked the +cover to with her umbrella-handle, and operated it +again. This time the inside leaf had been fastened back +with the lid, for this was a full-sized picture. The +audience, by this time, was laughing at nearly everything +she said, for Marie was a capital mimic, and she +had picked out and strung together all the funniest +things she could find in the Samantha Allen books. +</p> +<p> +“This here,” announced Samantha, “is my step-children, +Thomas Jefferson and Tirzah Ann. They +ain’t bad children, if I do say it as shouldn’t, and I +have brung ’em up like they wuz my own.” +</p> +<p> +Winona was Tirzah. She sat stiffly in a high-backed +chair (the back was pasteboard, covered with black muslin, +cut in a Chippendale sort of way) and she wore a +full, flowered gown, with her hair looped over her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +ears and fastened in the back to a “chignon” with two +fat curls hanging from it. They had put Tom with her, +with a view to mutual support. He, too, had a preposterous +collar (collars may be made by the dozen if +you have scissors and patience, and the Camp Fire Girls +had both) and a flowered vest. His baggy clothes and +a tall hat at his feet completed a picture that was so +much like the ones you do see in old albums that the +audience began to clap before Marie was through her +introduction. +</p> +<p> +“Woof!” said Tom when he got out of the frame. +“Never again for me!” He turned to grin at Billy, who +had still to go on. Billy was supposed to be ‘Submit +Tewksbury’s beau, a dashin’ city feller,’ and he was trying +to get an appropriate amount of dash into his +mustaches. +</p> +<p> +“Every time I go up against Camp Karonya,” responded +Billy sadly, “I have to do something that needs +a lot of stiffening. I had to work two hours over that +fiend tail of mine, and these whiskers are just as bad.” +</p> +<p> +“It’ll be worse when you have real ones,” remarked +Louise consolingly. She was acting as putter-on-of-finishing-touches. +There was a dressing-tent apiece for +the girls and boys, and Billy was on the outside of his, +trying to arrange the mustache to his liking by means +of a small mirror pinned to the canvas. +</p> +<p> +“At least I won’t have to worry about their sticking +on,” was his reply. +</p> +<p> +“There,” said Louise, “they’ll do now.” +</p> +<p> +“Billy and Adelaide wanted!” called Edith. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p> +Adelaide, on account of a mournful expression that +still appeared at times, had been selected for “Submit +Tewksbury,” who had a broken heart and was good to +one relative after another for thirty years or more. +She had been told to look as sad as she possibly could, +and she was posed with a medicine bottle and spoon, +with which she had just—so Samantha explained—been +nursing her relatives. Billy, behind her, looked +very cheerful and debonair with his jaunty mustache +and a very gaudy shirt which—so he said afterwards—he +had bought especially for the occasion, for thirty-nine +cents marked down from fifty. It had a large, +spotty pattern on it, and it looked <em>very</em> festive. +</p> +<p> +The tableaux went smoothly on. Marie remembered +all her lines, the audience appeared to enjoy it +all very much, when suddenly in the midst of a speech +she remembered something, and halted, secretly referring +to the list of pictures which was pinned inside her +palm-leaf fan. Widder Doodle, Submit Tewksbury, +Elder Minkley, Maggie Snow—yes, they were four +past Betsy Bobbet, the crowning glory of the evening, +and no Betsy Bobbet had there been! Marie pulled +herself together and thought a minute, talking on +meanwhile. +</p> +<p> +“Brethren and sisteren,” she said, “I hope you’ll +excuse me for a minute. My wind’s a gittin’ low, and +my new congress gaiters pinch me some. I’m goin’ to +ask you to wait a bit, till I fetch me a drink of water.” +</p> +<p> +The audience laughed, and clapped, as it had been +doing most of the evening, and Samantha scuttled distractedly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +behind the scenes, where she clutched the nearest +person to her. It happened to be Mrs. Bryan, who +was making up one of the boys under a light. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Betsy Bobbet—I mean Lilian Green?” +she asked hurriedly. “It’s way past her turn, and she’s +never been in at all.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear, didn’t anyone tell you?” said Mrs. +Bryan. +</p> +<p> +“They couldn’t,” said Marie. “I’ve been out front +all this time.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m awfully sorry,” said Mrs. Bryan. “Can’t +you do without her? She slipped and tore her costume +so badly that it wasn’t fit to appear in. She could pose, +of course, but the tears would show.” +</p> +<p> +“I went right down over a tent-pole,” explained +Lilian, appearing to speak for herself. She was indeed +badly torn, not to speak of the fact that she was limping +a little. Her bonnet and veil—a green mosquito-netting +veil—were wrecked—and she had managed to muddy +herself thoroughly, too. +</p> +<p> +“You certainly made a thorough job of it!” exclaimed +Marie. “But oh, Mrs. Bryan, what shall I +do? I’ve been talking about her all the evening—leading +up to her. She’s the keystone of the whole performance.” +</p> +<p> +“It would be a case of Hamlet with Hamlet left +out without her, then, would it?” queried Mrs. Bryan. +“My dear, I don’t know what to say. If Lilian were +damaged somebody else could supply her place, but we +haven’t any understudy for Lilian’s clothes!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +</p> +<p> +“There’s only one thing to do,” offered Winona, +coming over from a group of girls. “Have her go on +anyway, Marie, and make up something to explain why +she looks so funny. Explain why she’s so torn and +crumpled—make a joke of it, so they’ll think it was all +on purpose.” +</p> +<p> +“Winnie, you’re the pride of my life!” vowed +Marie. “I’ll have to do just that. It will be hard,” +she added doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, it won’t,” and Winona laughed reassuringly, +“you’re the cleverest one of us, and if you can’t +make up some reason why Betsy Bobbet looks mussed, +nobody can. Now go on out and do it.” +</p> +<p> +She gave her a little push. +</p> +<p> +“Ray-of-Light, you’re a dear!” Marie said affectionately +as she turned and went out. “Put Lilian in +the frame just as she is, please,” she said. “I think +I can manage it.” +</p> +<p> +Lilian laughed a little at the idea of displaying herself +to two hundred summer people looking as if she +had come out of a subway accident, but she got into +position like the good-natured girl she was, and Marie +heard the little bell and began to make her impromptu +explanation. +</p> +<p> +“My friend, Betsy Bobbet, she’s a considerable kind +of a curis person,” she said. “She’s sorter sentimental, +an’ sometimes she’s too impulsive. Now, just before +she had this daguerrotype took that I’m goin’ to show +you, she was writin’ a pome to the Muse. This is how +it went: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +</p> +<p> + “Muse of Poetry<br /> + I would do much for thee<br /> + And I am full of tears<br /> + Because I have been writin’ so many years<br /> + And still unappreciated I be—<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Betsy can write pomes like that any time,” explained +Marie, and the audience giggled. “But I always +tell Betsy,” Marie went on, “that walkin’ cross-lots ain’t +any place to compose poetry to Muses. Well, she was +walkin’ ’cross-lots in a brown study an’ a red-striped +morey waist, speakin’ this out loud as she went. An’ +she got to gesturin’ before she thought. An’ Farmer +Peedick, him that married Jane Ann Allen, had jest let +his best bull out in the field. An’ whether it was the +red morey waist or the pome Betsy never did know, +but she thinks it was the pome. She says she thinks +the bull, not bein’ used to fust-class poetry, was excited. +So he just up an’ ran after her. Well, she stopped +recitin’, an’ ran, too. She jest got over the barb-wire +fence in time. But I tell you, Betsy Bobbet is a wonderful +woman! When she was safe she fixed that bull +with her eye (it was a poet’s eye, she says to me), an’ +recited the remainder of that ode to him. An’, ladies +an’ gentlemen, you mayn’t believe it, but that bull was +cowed! Yes, sir. He looked at her, Betsy says to me, +as if he was sayin’ ‘I can’t stand that!’ an’ he ran. +Yes, sir, he just ran!” +</p> +<p> +She pulled aside the frame, and there smirked +Betsy, very stiff and proper, with her bonnet and veil +still a wreck and her red morey waist very much +askew, and with a jagged rent down the front of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +skirt. But her corkscrew curls twisted gracefully down +either side of her face, her eyes were rolled up, and +her mitted hand clutched a roll of paper. The audience +howled. +</p> +<p> +Marie closed the cover, bowed, and went on to the +end of the pictures. +</p> +<p> +The dances—the Indian dance, the minuet and the +Russian dance—were beautiful and everyone applauded +them, though they liked the Indian dance best. When +they had finished some of the guests, to Louise’s great +delight, demanded Camp Fire work, and bought it, +too. After that the girls distributed coffee and sandwiches +free, and then the Scouts took the audience, in +relays, up the river to Wampoag. +</p> +<p> +Before they went somebody said to Marie: +</p> +<p> +“My dear, you were splendid. I’m going to give +that entertainment for our church this winter, and write +to you for help. But the most convincing and amusing +picture of the lot was ‘Betsy Bobbet.’ Do tell me how +you ever managed to make the thing so life-like?” +</p> +<p> +But Marie merely looked modest. +</p> +<p> +“We did the best we could,” she said. “It was +quite simple, after all.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h2> +<p> +The next time Billy and Tom and Winona and +Louise went off in Billy’s canoe for the day, they did +not take Sandy. She happened to be making one of +her brief visits home. They took, instead, a shot-gun +apiece (that is, the boys did), a book apiece (that was +for the girls), a bagful of socks from the Scouts’ +mending-basket, and the usual amount of lunch. +</p> +<p> +“We look like an Italian moving,” Tom observed +critically, looking over their joint baggage. “Three +fishing-rods, two baskets, two paddles, two guns, two +sunbonnets. Whew! Louise, I’ll trade with you.” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t much at all,” said Louise indignantly. “I +could carry my share, and yours, too, if I had to.” +</p> +<p> +“You may,” he returned promptly. “Here’s my +rifle. It won’t go off unless you hit the trigger by +accident.” +</p> +<p> +“Heap big chief!” said she, not offering to take +it. “If I’d remembered how you hated carrying innocent +little things like this around with you”—she +pointed to the imposing pile of baskets, books and work +in the bottom of the canoe—“I’d have telephoned for +an expressman.” +</p> +<p> +“Have you a telephone?” asked Tom. “When +did you put it in, and what did you tie it to?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Louise, “but we could have borrowed +yours.” +</p> +<p> +The Scouts had just finished installing a telephone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +from Wampoag to their headquarters. They had done +nearly everything themselves in the way of connecting +and so forth. They were very proud of it, and the +Camp Fire girls were wildly envious, for all <em>they</em> had +was a system of baking-powder-box-and-wire telephone, +worked out from the American Girl’s Handy +Book by two young geniuses. It was all right as far as +it went, but naturally it wouldn’t connect them with the +telephones at home, or at Wampoag. +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course you could,” consented Tom. “In +fact, you can. Shall I paddle you that way?” +</p> +<p> +“You needn’t mind,” she smiled. “Do look at +Winona!” +</p> +<p> +Winona had one of Marie’s books, and she was sitting +on the bottom reading it, forgetful of the world. +</p> +<p> +“What does this mean, Billy?” as she looked up +suddenly. “Marie has a note here in pencil ‘But +Raleigh was not exclusively Elizabethan!’ and two exclamation +points after it.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” Billy answered frankly. “I don’t +see why Marie wants to worry about it.” +</p> +<p> +“Raleigh was Gothic with Queen Anne chimneys,” +interrupted Tom. “If you want information just come +to me, little one. Here, Winnie, put down that book. +It looks too full of useful information for a nice day +like this. Remember, this is a pleasure exertion.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” and Winona laid down the book. +“Only I do wish I knew as much as Marie does.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet she never seems to study hard,” remarked +Louise, to whom lessons were a painful grind. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +believe she’s like Billy Wiggs of the Cabbage-Patch—she +‘inherited her education from her paw!’” +</p> +<p> +“She could!” put in Tom mournfully. “Professor +Hunter has enough and too much. Just wait till you +get under him, Louise!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I can wait. I’m in no hurry at all. He’s +awfully nice out of school hours, but——” +</p> +<p> +“But why talk about school in vacation?” broke in +Billy impatiently. “Isn’t it a lovely day?” +</p> +<p> +The girls were curled on the bottom of the canoe, in +the middle, and the boys were paddling at the ends. +The morning breeze, cool and fresh, struck their faces, +whipping Louise’s red hair about her face in little curls, +and blowing Winona’s blue tie straight back over her +shoulder in the sunshine. +</p> +<p> +“This is something like living!” Tom declared, +spatting the water with his paddle because he was so +happy. “Pass me about three bananas, will you, whoever’s +nearest the lunch? I feel hungry.” +</p> +<p> +“You aren’t,” said Louise swiftly. “You just +want those bananas because you know they’re there. +Have some poetry instead. I brought a bookful.” +</p> +<p> +“Poetry!” snorted Tom, as she hoped he would. +</p> +<p> +“Cæsar! There’s a snipe!” cried Billy, dropping +his paddle, reaching for a rifle, and taking hasty aim. +</p> +<p> +“Never touched it,” mocked Tom as the report +died, and the snipe appeared not to have done so at all. +</p> +<p> +“How do you come to be carrying all these shooting-irons +around?” asked Louise suspiciously. “I +thought Mr. Gedney was pretty strict about it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +</p> +<p> +“Special permission,” explained Tom. “We’ve +both always known how to shoot, and old Billy here is +supposed to be the most careful thing that ever was.” +</p> +<p> +“That wasn’t a snipe,” said Billy disgustedly. +“That was a mosquito, a nice tame old Jersey mosquito. +I always heard they grew to that size, but I +never believed it before.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t cast any asparagus,” said Louise. “The +advertisements say there are no mosquitoes here.” +</p> +<p> +Billy eyed the now almost gone snipe. +</p> +<p> +“Well, he may have been a plain fly,” he conceded.... +“Let’s go on hunting. Perhaps we’ll find a +real snipe next time.” +</p> +<p> +They paddled along lazily for the next three-quarters +of an hour, talking a little now and then. For +the most part, though, they went on in silence, except +when Louise giggled over “Fables in Slang,” which +she had pulled out of her blouse-pocket, or when someone +saw what might be game, or especially good scenery. +They went, presently, down an arm of the river +that was scarcely more than a creek, and stopped there +till afternoon for rest and refreshment. It seemed a +charming spot, and almost deserted. Only in the distance +one red-roofed farmhouse could be seen, adding +to the picturesqueness of the landscape. +</p> +<p> +There were three small sandwiches left, and the +girls, with the aid of paper and pencil, had just worked +it out that each person present was entitled to three-quarters +of a sandwich. They were trying to decide +who should get the three quarters that were cut out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +the three sandwiches—it was more a point of honor +than necessity, for nobody much wanted any of them—when +there was a subdued howl from Tom, who had +been lying on his back in the canoe, gazing up at the sky. +</p> +<p> +Six stately geese were flying in an arrow-shape across +the creek, above the canoe. Both boys fired. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what a shame to kill them!” mourned +Winona; but Tom said hurriedly again that they had +special permission from Mr. Gedney, and sat up to +see if he had done anything. +</p> +<p> +“We each got one!” said Billy in a tense whisper. +“They’ve dropped on the farther shore—there by the +farmhouse!” +</p> +<p> +The boys pushed the canoe up close and sprang out. +They were dashing excitedly across country after their +prey. Suddenly the waiting girls heard wild howls, +and the tall, angry form of a wild-eyed man in overalls +suddenly appeared from nowhere with a pitchfork. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s chasing the boys!” exclaimed Winona. +</p> +<p> +“He certainly is!” seconded Louise, and began to +giggle. “Listen to him!” +</p> +<p> +It was really impossible to do anything else. +</p> +<p> +“My geese! My prize geese!” shouted the overalled +man, adding what he thought of Tom’s and Billy’s +intelligence. “My pedigreed geese, you young idiots! +I’ll teach you!” +</p> +<p> +“You ought to have made ’em wear their pedigrees +around their necks,” Tom shouted back at the man. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, can they get away?” cried Louise. “Look!” +</p> +<p> +And Winona, looking, saw that their way back to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +the canoe was cut off by a dog—the traditional farmer’s +dog of the comic papers. He was stationed on the +bank, eying the canoe and the girls in it in a very +threatening way, and most plainly only waiting till +the boys came back to bite them. +</p> +<p> +Winona gave the canoe a determined push which +landed it in midstream, and both girls began to paddle +back by the way they had come, Winona because she had +a plan, Louise because she was following Winona. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll meet them around this point, on the other +side,” she explained to Louise. “I saw a glimpse of +water on the other side, and I think the point of land +the farm is on is like a peninsula.” +</p> +<p> +Sure enough, they discovered the criminals crouched +romantically behind a clump of trees at the other side +of the point of land. They were so well hidden that the +girls would never have seen them if Billy had not +stealthily waved a red handkerchief which he always +carried for wigwagging. The girls paddled up as +softly as they could, and the boys crawled out and +waded to the canoe, crouching low. Nobody dared say +anything till the canoe and its crew was well out and +downstream again, far from farmers with dogs and +pitchforks and no desire to listen to explanations. +</p> +<p> +“And we never even got those geese!” mourned +Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Got those geese!” said Louise severely. “You +oughtn’t to want to get pedigreed geese that belonged +to a farmer—especially a farmer with that kind of a +disposition.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +</p> +<p> +“He hasn’t any business to let tame geese go prowling +around the country that way,” growled Billy, “the +first day a fellow has leave to go shooting food for the +Scouts at home! How were we to know they had a +coat-of-arms and a family tree? They ought to have +been kept at home, in their ancestral barnyard.” +</p> +<p> +“And we never even got the confounded things!” +lamented Tom again. “And we might just as well +have, too, because we’ll have to go up and pay for +them, of course, when Mr. Overalls has calmed down +enough not to bite us on sight. They may be worth +a thousand dollars apiece, for all we know. We were +the pedigreed geese, I think!” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Louise soothingly, “be glad +Father Goose didn’t get you, instead of sorry you didn’t +get his pets. They probably would have been tough, +anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“And we can fish,” suggested Winona. “Nobody’s +going to jump out of the river and tell us that these are +his pedigreed perch.” +</p> +<p> +“The game-warden may, if the river’s been stocked +lately,” said Billy. +</p> +<p> +“It hasn’t,” asserted Tom. “Don’t you remember? +We found out all about that before any of us came up +here last year. All these fish are old enough to die. +Pass me the bait, please, Winnie.” +</p> +<p> +“Here you are,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +She baited a line for herself, dropped it in, and +everyone else did the same thing. After that nobody +said anything for quite a little while, unless an occasional +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +“Confound those geese!” from Tom could count +as conversation. +</p> +<p> +“Got something!” announced Louise at length, +jerking in her line. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Tom with interest. +</p> +<p> +“Feels like a perch—or a trout,” said Louise pulling +in her line rapidly. +</p> +<p> +“It doesn’t <em>look</em> like one,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“M’m, not exactly,” said her brother. “You ought +to be interested in it, though, Win—it’s a catfish.” +</p> +<p> +“You can eat catfish,” said Louise, quite calmly. +“In fact, I believe they’re considered very good eating. +I don’t know but I’d rather have them than trout.” +</p> +<p> +“Especially if you can’t get the trout,” added Tom. +</p> +<p> +“If you can’t get what you want, you must want +what you can get.” So she baited her line again. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what is it this time?” inquired Tom next +time she pulled her line in. The rest had had fair luck. +</p> +<p> +“Probably another pussy-fish,” said Louise resignedly. +But this time it was a real perch, and after that +it was a sunfish, and then two more catfish. And presently +there was enough for supper, and by the time they +got back they knew it would be supper-getting time. +Winona was cooking supper that week. So they put the +fish in the empty lunch-basket and paddled for home. +Louise took Billy’s paddle, and Billy trolled all the +way. He didn’t get anything, but he enjoyed himself. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s that on the dock?” asked Tom as they +neared the Camp Karonya landing. “Are they waiting +for us?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +</p> +<p> +“Tom’s afraid the farmer with the ducks has come +around the other way,” said Louise. “No, Tommy, +my dear, that’s only Mr. Sloane, who is a sort of +unofficial uncle to Camp Karonya. We’re supposed to +have rented that dock from him, but he comes there +and fishes just as much as if we hadn’t.” +</p> +<p> +“Sort of a fourth sub-mascot?” said Billy. “Yes, +I remember—the old man who helped you out about +the scows when you were building the float.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s the one,” said Winona. “He’s fishing.” +</p> +<p> +“And there’s Puppums, too,” said Louise. “Oh, +the dear old doggie! He’s come down to the dock to +wait for you, Winnie!” +</p> +<p> +“So he has,” agreed Winona. “I wonder if he’s +been there long.” +</p> +<p> +Puppums liked canoeing very much, and when he +thought Winona ought to have taken him and hadn’t, +he would go down to the dock, trailing her by scent, +and sit there hours and hours—merely for the sake of +looking reproachfully at her when she did get in, it was +thought. Winona always hugged him, and apologized, +and took him for a row if possible, and he knew it. +</p> +<p> +When he caught sight of the canoe (like most dogs, +he was short-sighted) he began to bark excitedly and +run up and down the dock, and jump wildly about. +He did everything but swim out to the canoe. Puppums +hated water—which gave rise to a theory that there +was a little pug in his ancestry. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Sloane, too, rose as the canoe came near the +landing-place. He did not jump up and down, because +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +he had not been waiting for the canoeing party. He +had evidently taken their return as a signal that it was +time he went home himself, for he was collecting his +rod and bait-can, and his coat, and the other things he +had strewn about the dock. Puppums still careered +wildly around and around. As Winona stepped ashore +his excitement grew so intense that he ran full tilt into +Mr. Sloane, who was bending over picking something +up, and nearly knocked him over. +</p> +<p> +“W-u-ugh!” said Mr. Sloane, and began to hunt +frantically about the dock. +</p> +<p> +And as the boys and girls gained the shore it became +painfully evident that the little dog had jarred +out the old gentleman’s false teeth. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Sloane had never made any secret of the fact +that he wore “bought teeth”—indeed, he had told +Winona and Adelaide, who were his especial favorites, +just where he got them and how much they cost, and +where others like them could be gotten. But still, when +your friend’s teeth are knocked out all at once by your +family dog, well, you <em>do</em> feel a little embarrassment. +With one accord the four looked in the other direction, +as Mr. Sloane, with a “Drat that pup!” continued to +hunt for his teeth. The boys fussed with the canoe, +and Winona and Louise began to hunt for a nonexistent +something in the box they used for a locker. +</p> +<p> +But Puppums was going to be polite at all costs. He +trotted over, his tail wagging wildly at the prospect of +being able to do something for his mistress, picked up +the teeth, and carried them proudly to Winona! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Puppums—you <em>naughty</em> dog!” she said, trying +to take the teeth away from him as unostentatiously +as possible. +</p> +<p> +But Puppums, realizing from her voice that something +was wrong, looked up at her depreciatingly, +wagged his tail again, suddenly put his tail between his +legs and started for the camp! +</p> +<p> +It was no use to try to ignore things any longer. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Sloane,” Winona cried. “I’m so sorry! +He’s a bad dog. I’ll go straight after him and get +them.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, never mind,” said Mr. Sloane, kindly if +rather indistinctly. He began to laugh. “That dog +o’ yours certainly is a rip-snorter!” he said. “Knock +a man down an’ carry off his teeth!” +</p> +<p> +By this time the boys had stopped trying not to +laugh, and were howling in unison in the background. +And little Frances, Adelaide’s sister, came up with a +nice birch-bark box. She handed it to Mr. Sloane, +dropped a pretty courtesy, and ran. And so did the +others. The only unembarrassed members of the party +were Puppums, who wasn’t there, to be Irish, and Mr. +Sloane himself. +</p> +<p> +“Talk about banner days!” sighed Louise. “I +was the only one of us that didn’t get into trouble——” +</p> +<p> +“Louise!” called somebody, from outside the tent +where Louise was washing and getting ready for supper. +“Did you know that you left the store-shed door +open this morning when you came in for supplies, and +somebody’s carried off every bit of bacon!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h2> +<p> +And in the opulent days which followed the winning +of the carnival prizes, and the selling of lovely amounts +of Camp Fire goods, Camp Karonya decided that it +ought to own a phonograph. The treasury, which was +a suitcase under Helen’s bed, had money in it, and the +girls badly needed something to dance by. To be +sure, the camp boasted a mandolin, two guitars, a +mouth-organ and a banjo, to say nothing of Mrs. +Bryan’s Iroquois drum. But all these had to be worked +by hand, and the orchestra, after performing for several +long evenings while their friends practised folk-dances +with abandon, struck. +</p> +<p> +“We want to get a chance at the folk-dances, too,” +they remonstrated, very reasonably. Indeed, Louise +got up and made a moving speech, alluding to her pressing +need of folk-dances, and her slender chance of being +able to do them while she played her instrument. +</p> +<p> +“Here I am,” she said pathetically, “twice as +plump as anybody else in camp. I need folk-dances +more than anybody here does. And I’ve spent this +whole blessed evening plunking a banjo while other +people got thin, people that were thin already! It may +be good for my moral character, but, girls”—Louise’s +voice dropped tragically—“it’s <em>ruining</em> yours!” +</p> +<p> +They all agreed that something should be done. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan was entirely willing to go on pounding +her Indian drum indefinitely, but the girls did not think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +it would be good for their moral characters to let her, +either. So they held a business meeting on the spot, +which happened to be the large level place they used for +dancing ground; and decided to buy a phonograph. +</p> +<p> +“I think we have catalogues of them at home,” said +Dorothy Gray. “Shall I write and have them sent on?” +</p> +<p> +The girls considered that for awhile, but they finally +decided not to. Everyone wanted a voice in choosing +the phonograph, or at least in deciding on what kind +of a phonograph they were to have. +</p> +<p> +“But we don’t want to pay the full price for it,” +said Helen wisely. “What we ought to do is to advertise +in the <em>Press</em> in the village. It’s the country paper. +Look at the market Win created for kittens——” +</p> +<p> +But here Winona sprang for her, and they rolled +over on the leaves, and the meeting ended in a frolic. +</p> +<p> +However, they all liked Helen’s idea, and two Blue +Birds were sent off to the <em>Press</em> with an advertisement +for a second-hand phonograph or victrola in good condition. +Next day two other Blue Birds went after the +answers. There were three. +</p> +<p> +One offered a fine music-box in good condition, +which had never been used since the owner’s wife died +twenty years ago. He lived on the Northtown Pike +(which nobody present had ever heard of), about seventeen +miles from the village. The music-box played six +tunes and was an heirloom, having belonged to his +mother, but the farmer on the Northtown Pike would +part with it for twenty-five dollars for he wanted +another Holstein cow and this would pay for part of her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +</p> +<p> +“Horrid old thing!” said Winona when Marie +was done reading the answers aloud. “If it’s an heirloom +he hasn’t any business parting with it to buy a section +of any kind of cow—or even a whole one.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Marie, go on to the next,” said Mrs. Bryan. +But the next was even more hopeless. What this man +had was, from his description, a very cheap phonograph +which was almost as old as the farmer’s music-box; +but he, too, thought he would like to have twenty-five +dollars for it. +</p> +<p> +“He doubtless wants to buy a section of cow, too,” +suggested Mrs. Bryan. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe they’re buying her together,” said Louise +brilliantly; and Marie read the last letter. This was the +only one at all promising. The writer, who was a +woman with a good handwriting and correct spelling, +said that she had a two-year-old victrola in good condition, +and that she would gladly sell it for twenty-five +dollars, because she was going to be given a new one. +</p> +<p> +“That sounds better,” said Mrs. Bryan. “I would +advise a committee of you to go and look it over.” +</p> +<p> +“But how badly they all want twenty-five dollars!” +groaned Marie. “Do you notice it? They all ask for +exactly the same amount.” +</p> +<p> +“Probably buying the cow on shares,” repeated +Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I vote we make Louise one of the committee to +see the two-year-old victrola,” said Winona. “She has +business instinct, and the rest of us haven’t such a lot.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s more to the point, I also have a victrola +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +at home, or Dad has,” said Louise, “and I know what +it ought to be like to be good.” +</p> +<p> +So it was moved and seconded that Louise, Winona +and Helen be appointed a committee of three to investigate +the victrola. +</p> +<p> +As early as they could in the afternoon after they +had received their replies they started out. It was a +gorgeous day, not too warm for comfort, and they +chased each other about the road as if they were kittens, +instead of responsible Camp Fire Girls out on a very +business-like errand. After they had gone about a +mile, which led them nearly to the village, it occurred +to some brilliant person that it might be a good plan +to ask somebody how to get to the address of the woman +with the two-year-old victrola. It was The Willows, +Lowlane, near Gray’s Road, and so far as the girls +knew that might have been nearly anywhere. So they +did ask at the post-office, where they had quite made +friends with the old postmaster. +</p> +<p> +“It’s three miles down the pike,” said he. “Strike +off on the left to Gray’s Road—you’ll see a signpost, I +guess—and then turn down the first little lane you come +to. They call it Lowlane now, the folks that own the +house, but it was never anything but Low’s Lane till +they came there.” +</p> +<p> +“The first little lane we come to?” repeated +Winona. +</p> +<p> +The postmaster looked thoughtful. “Now, I don’t +want to be too sure,” he said. “The first, or maybe +the second. Elmer, do you recollect whether Low’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +Lane is the first or second turning on the Gray’s Road +way?” +</p> +<p> +“Second,” said Elmer the clerk readily. +</p> +<p> +“There now!” said the postmaster. “I might a’ +told you wrong. I certainly had it fixed in my mind +that it was the first.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” said the girls. “It won’t be hard to +find.” +</p> +<p> +It seemed, indeed, plain enough sailing, and the girls +went on. The road was bordered with trees, and there +were flowers they wanted to pick, and occasionally +rabbits for Puppums to chase. He was not a swift +enough runner to ever catch any of the rabbits he ran +after, and the rabbits did not seem to mind, so Winona +let him go on chasing. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve gone quite three miles, I know,” said Louise +dismally when they had been walking some time. “And +there’s no Lowlane—not even any Gray’s Road.” +Louise had trained a good deal since she had been in +camp, but she still felt long walks more than the other +two did, who were slim. “I ‘don’t believe there’s no +sich animal’ as Mrs. Martin, or a victrola. There +aren’t any victrolas or any lanes, high or low, on earth. +Woof—I’m tired!” +</p> +<p> +She fanned herself with her handkerchief, and the +dog tried to jump at it, under the impression that she +was playing a game with him. +</p> +<p> +“It does seem a long way,” said Helen sympathetically, +“but there is a Gray’s Road, for I’m sure I see +a signpost a little ahead of us.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s probably one of those automobile directions +that says ‘Three miles back to the village—seventeen +miles forward to Jonesville. Use Smith’s Lubricating +Oil and Robinson Tires!’” and Louise shrugged her +shoulders. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, when they came up to the signpost, +although it did advise automobiles about several kinds +of supplies they ought to have, it also said that this +was Gray’s Road. They turned as they had been told, +and went down it, in search of their second landmark, +Low’s Lane. This, unfortunately, wasn’t in sight. +“Let’s ask,” said Winona as they passed a little old +house by the side of the road, and steered the others +up the path that led to the porch. It was a ramshackle, +unpainted packing-box of a place, with an old, old lady, +heavily shawled, curled up in a rocker, for inhabitant. +Helen was pushed forward to speak to her. “Can you +tell us if we are near Low’s Lane?” she asked, politely. +</p> +<p> +“Hey?” said the old lady. “I’m a little deaf.” +</p> +<p> +Helen said it over again as loudly as she could. +</p> +<p> +“Rain?” said the old lady. “No, no—it ain’t +goin’ to rain!” +</p> +<p> +“Low’s Lane!” screamed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“What?” said the old lady. +</p> +<p> +“Ask her about the victrola,” suggested Winona. +“Sometimes deaf people can hear one word when they +can’t another. Perhaps she’d know by that where we +wanted to go.” +</p> +<p> +“We want a place where they’re selling a victrola!” +shouted Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +</p> +<p> +This time the old lady seemed to hear. +</p> +<p> +“Victrola, hey? You go right on a piece till you +turn to your left. It’s the first house.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” yelled Helen. +</p> +<p> +They were offered, and took, drinks of water, and +went on again. +</p> +<p> +“I think one of you might have asked some of the +questions,” said Helen indignantly. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll ask one now!” defied Louise. “Far be it +from me not to do my duty.” She turned and ran back +to where the old dame still rocked on her porch. +</p> +<p> +“Is it a good victrola?” she shouted. +</p> +<p> +The old lady shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t go so far’s to say <em>that</em>,” she answered. +“Smart, though—awful smart and clever!” +</p> +<p> +Louise ran back to the others without asking any +more questions. +</p> +<p> +“She says the talking machine isn’t good, but awful +smart and clever,” she panted. “What <em>do</em> you suppose +she means?” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t imagine,” said Helen. “Anyway, we +know how to get there.” +</p> +<p> +The first lane, sure enough, led to a house, but +there seemed to be no willows anywhere about it. Still +houses often have names that have nothing to do with +the facts, so the girls pressed on. The place had a +vaguely familiar look to Winona and Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sure I’ve come here before, by another way,” +said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t,” said Helen. “You must have come +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +by water. I think the river’s somewhere back of us. +If you ask me, I think one way’s enough to come.” +</p> +<p> +They lined up before the door and rang. But the +bell, they discovered finally, was badly out of order. +A “please knock” sign was blowing about the porch, +they discovered still a little later. They knocked vigorously, +and the door was finally unfastened by a draggled +little girl of about eleven. +</p> +<p> +“Why—why, how do you do, Vicky!” said Louise +in surprise. “Why, of course, Helen, this is Sandy’s +house. Only this isn’t the same door, is it, that we +came in by last time, Vicky?” +</p> +<p> +Vicky, who was as tousled as usual, shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter?” she asked stolidly. “Has +Sandy been naughty?” +</p> +<p> +“No, indeed,” said Louise, “she’s as good as gold. +Can’t we come in?” for Vicky didn’t seem to feel +specially hospitable—she was holding the door on a +crack, and was not her usual sunny self. “Sandy’s +around here somewhere—at least she’s not in camp.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” she said, and opened it wider. The +girls filed in and sat down in the square hall, which +was as littered as usual with clothes and paper bags and +everything else that places are usually littered with. +</p> +<p> +“Look at that hole!” whispered Louise, forgetting +her politeness as Vicky stood near them, not intending, +evidently, to sit down and entertain them if she could +help it. “There’s more hole than stocking!” +</p> +<p> +It was quite true, but unfortunately Vicky had +sharp ears. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span> +</p> +<p> +“They’re my own stockings,” she said crossly, +“and I like ’em with holes in.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, all right!” said Louise dryly. “Only they +aren’t usually worn that way.” +</p> +<p> +“Can we speak to your uncle?” interposed Helen, +for the air was becoming stormy. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t home,” announced Vicky. “He had a cross +fit and went out walking.” +</p> +<p> +“Is anybody home?” asked Winona. “We came +on business.” +</p> +<p> +“You can do it with me, whatever it is,” said Vicky, +sitting down with the torn-stockinged leg under her. +</p> +<p> +Helen plunged straight into the business at hand. +</p> +<p> +“The old lady down the road said that this was +the house where they had a victrola——” she started +to say—and stopped in dismay over the effect of her +words; Vicky flew into a temper and began to cry. +</p> +<p> +“I want you to go away from here—coming to +make fun of me!” she sobbed, stamping her foot at +them. Before they could answer she ran out of the +room, leaving them staring at each other in surprise. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what on earth?” Winona slowly ejaculated. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness only knows,” said Louise. “Anyway, +I seem to feel that she doesn’t want to sell it to us.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, no,” assented Helen, and the three of them +thoughtfully and slowly let themselves out at the door +they had come in by. +</p> +<p> +They had gone only a little way back when they +heard flying feet behind them. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute,” panted Vicky, catching up to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +them. “I guess—perhaps—I’d better explain. I’m +sorry I got mad. But—but my <em>name’s</em> Victrola!” She +flushed painfully. Evidently it was hard for her to tell. +“I thought you were just making fun of me, but I +thought about it, and I guess you weren’t. I know the +place you want—it’s a little further, up the next lane.” +</p> +<p> +She started to run back, but Winona caught her +hand and held her. +</p> +<p> +“Why, you poor dear!” she said. “I don’t see +why you mind. It’s a very pretty name. But we +weren’t trying to make fun of you. We really want +to buy a phonograph for the camp.” +</p> +<p> +“They laugh at me—everybody does,” faltered +Vicky. “They were this morning—the boys down by +the landing. That’s why I was so cross. They pretend +to wind me up, and—and I <em>hate</em> it!” +</p> +<p> +“So would I,” comforted Louise. “But you +mustn’t mind, Vicky. All my life the boys have called +me ‘Carrots,’ and ‘Reddy,’ and things like that. +There’s no use caring. Look here, honey, I’ll tell you +what to do. See if you haven’t got a middle name you +can use, or even one you ought to have had. Ask +your uncle if there wasn’t a middle name somebody +almost gave you once, and if there was use it.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if I could!” said Vicky, brightening. +She reached down and pulled up one of her stockings, +as if the prospect of a better name made her want to +be tidy. +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow it’s a pretty name,” said Louise cheerfully. +“I wouldn’t worry about it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, you would,” said Vicky, as she turned back. +“There down this lane’s the place you can get—it.” +</p> +<p> +It was Louise’s turn to detain her this time. +</p> +<p> +“Vicky! Vicky!” she called. “Won’t you and +Sandy come down to Camp Karonya and stay overnight, +to-morrow night? We’re going to do some +stunts—just to celebrate. The Scouts are coming over, +and one or two of our pet particular friends.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know the way,” said Vicky. +</p> +<p> +“Sandy does,” said Louise and Winona together. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” said Vicky sedately. “We’ll come. +And—please don’t tell the others my name. I’ll have +the real one thought out by that time.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course we won’t,” they promised. +</p> +<p> +“It <em>was</em> mean to name her that,” Helen declared as +they went down the lane. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe it was before there were machine victrolas, +and her mother just thought it was pretty,” suggested +Louise. “The other children have fancy names, +too; Alexandra and Lance. Remember Vicky told us +there was a boy named Lancelot, the day we went up?” +</p> +<p> +“To return your orphan?” said Winona. “Oh, +yes—we all remember. Never mind, Ishkoodah dear, +perhaps next time you’ll find a real one.” +</p> +<p> +“Wouldn’t it be fine if Camp Karonya <em>could</em> look +after some little girl—one of the Children’s Aid children, +for instance?” said Helen thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“It would take a good deal of money,” spoke practical +Louise, “if we didn’t one of us have it in the +family.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not such a lot,” said Winona. “Oh, it would +be lovely! A nice little orphan with blue eyes and +curly hair, and we’d name her ourselves——” +</p> +<p> +“We’d call her Gramophone!” suggested Louise; +and, tired as they were, they all began to laugh. But +by this time they were nearly at the house the machine’s +namesake had directed them to, and it was the right one. +</p> +<p> +The owner had a fairly good victrola and six double-faced +records, and she finally consented to let it go +for twenty dollars. The girls paid down the money +on the spot, and constructed a carrier for it out of two +pieces of board which the machine’s owner threw in. +</p> +<p> +There were no adventures whatever connected with +this end of the happening. Helen took the front end +and Louise the back, and Winona steadied it. Then +they set it down, after they had walked awhile, and +changed places. It seemed rather a long way home, and +they were exceedingly glad when they reached camp—that +was all. Their sympathetic comrades attended to +their routine duties for them, and all the adventurers +had to do was to lie on the grass and tell about their +travels—everything, that is, but Victrola’s name and +her grief over it. +</p> +<p> +After supper the whole camp assembled to enjoy +the machine, and danced to everything on its disc, +even the sextette from Lucia, given as a vocal selection. +But Louise did not do any folk-dances that night. +She was so tired that she curled up on a soft spot and +fed the machine till it was time to go to bed. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h2> +<p> +“Did you dye that old petticoat and underwaist +pink?” demanded Winona, sticking her head into +Marie’s tent. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I did,” said Marie promptly, “and it’s +starched, and ironed with the charcoal-iron.” +</p> +<p> +“And did Adelaide borrow her brother’s bathrobe +for Louise?” +</p> +<p> +“No, she didn’t, but I did—at least, I sent Frances +over for it,” said Marie. “It’s here, and safe.” +</p> +<p> +“And did Louise sew the hood on it?” +</p> +<p> +“She did,” said Marie resignedly. “Every single +property for ‘Gentle Alice Brown’ and the ‘Oysterman’ +is in a mound in the dressing-tent. Go look, for +goodness’ sake, or you’ll have nervous prostration.” +</p> +<p> +Winona, property-woman and general manager of +the performance, pulled back her head with a sigh of +relief, and went to find the girl who had promised to +straighten out the fishing-tackle necessary to the Ballad +of the Oysterman—for they were to present that classic +of Holmes’s in a very few hours. +</p> +<p> +The performance was to be at eight, and it was a +strictly complimentary one. The Scouts were invited, +and various special friends from Wampoag, most of +them made over dealings in Camp merchandise. A +committee had been appointed to see about illuminations, +and another to attend to the refreshments. They +were amassing honor beads by doing it. Marie’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +Blue Birds were busy everywhere. Camp Karonya was +dazzlingly clean, and everyone was getting out the +one dress-up frock she had brought along, and giving +it attention. There was to be an exhibit, also, as the +flaring posters Helen had prepared said, of “potteries, +embroideries, jellies, hand-carvings, pickles and other +objects.” It had been going to be “other objects of +art,” but Winona pointed out that jellies and pickles +<em>weren’t</em>, no matter what the rest might be. So the +poster stopped abruptly at “objects,” and the space +was filled up by a life-like portrait of a jelly-glass. +</p> +<p> +Camp Karonya took a very brief meal of bread and +milk and cookies, and the dish-washers hurried through +their tasks. For eight o’clock has a way of coming +long before you expect it. About seven-thirty the paddles +and oars and motor-boats of the audience began +to be heard, and the reception committee scurried down +to the dock to meet their guests. First came their +friends the Scouts from down the river, about thirty +strong. After them, in little groups, came the summer +people, including Billy’s Aunt Lydia, who never missed +a Camp Fire function if she could help it. +</p> +<p> +The audience was seated, as usual, on planks laid +from box to box and nailed. They did not have to sit +there long. After a great deal of giggling and rustling +behind the big green curtain that had been made of +sacks, pieced together and dyed, Winona came out to +announce the beginning of the entertainment. +</p> +<p> +“Ladies and gentlemen,” she commenced, “to-night +we are going to have, beside several musical selections, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span> +some moving pictures with explanatory recitations—some +<em>very</em> moving pictures. After the opening +song we will have the first one, ‘Gentle Alice Brown.’” +</p> +<p> +The audience applauded, and then the girls sang a +Camp Fire song in chorus. After that Louise and +Edith played a conscientious mandolin-banjo duet. +Then Marie, who was the reader of the evening, came +out with a copy of Gilbert’s Bab Ballads and very +slowly began to read “Gentle Alice Brown.” +</p> +<p> +At the first line the curtain was pulled back, revealing +Winona alone against a sheet background. She +was in an 1860 costume made from an old, full petticoat +and tight underwaist, dyed pink, and helped out +with small puffed sleeves and a sash. Her curls were +bound with a wreath of artificial roses from the ten-cent +store, slightly over one ear. She sat on a chair +with her head on her hand, and she was looking mournfully +over the chair-back. Marie began, +</p> +<p> + It was a robber’s daughter, and her name was Alice Brown,<br /> + Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;<br /> + Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing,<br /> + But it isn’t of her parents that I’m going for to sing.<br /> +</p> +<p> +As Marie went on, across the stage galloped ferociously +Helen, who had been given the role of Robber +Brown because she was one of the tallest of the girls. +A red flannel shirt of Tom Merriam’s, topped by a +fishing hat and black mustachio, were most convincing. +Her short kilt, which gave her rather the look of a +Greek than an Italian bandit, was met by a pair of fishing-boots, +and she wore three carving-knives and a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> +cartridge belt. She strode ferociously across the stage, +looking neither to right nor left. +</p> +<p> +Edith Hillis, trotting meekly behind her as Mrs. +Brown, wore a baggy old long skirt, a bandanna tied +around her waist, one around her neck and another +on her head. She only had one carving-knife. But the +lovely Alice did not deign to look at her parents. She +gazed sadly out over the audience, while Marie went +on to tell how— +</p> +<p> + As Alice was sitting at her window-sill one day<br /> + A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way,<br /> + A sorter at the Custom-house, it was his daily road—<br /> + (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes walk from her abode).<br /> +</p> +<p> +At this point the hero crossed the stage dashingly, +with a cane under his arm. It was Adelaide, in a plaid +cap, a waxed mustache, and a very precise duster which +reached her heels. A pipe (she said afterwards it had +a dreadful taste) stuck from one corner of her mouth. +</p> +<p> +Gentle Alice sighed deeply, and so did her lover, +who became aware of her presence with a tragic start. +He halted, waved to her, sighed with his hand on his +heart, and looked altogether very lovelorn. Gentle +Alice did not notice him at first, but she gradually +seemed to yield, and finally languished softly at him—and +winked. So did he. Then he kissed his hands at +her and went off reluctantly to work, while Alice +wiped away her tears with a large bandanna such as +her parents had worn. (They were the historic bandannas +which had served Winona and Louise so well +on their peddling trip.) +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +</p> +<p> +The ballad went on to relate how presently Alice’s +conscience bothered her. So she asked the Brown’s +family confessor about it, +</p> +<p> + The priest by whom their little crimes were carefully assessed.<br /> +</p> +<p> +Here Louise appeared, in the brown bathrobe, with +its hood pulled up over her head, and sandals on. Alice +threw herself at his feet, and waved her hands in grief. +</p> +<p> + “Oh, father,” Gentle Alice said, “’Twould grieve you, would it not,<br /> + To find that I have been a most disreputable lot?”<br /> +</p> +<p> +Louise assumed a benign expression and listened +while Alice confessed her sins. Marie stopped, while +Winona herself spoke: +</p> +<p> + I assisted dear mamma in cutting up a little lad,<br /> + I helped papa to steal a little kiddy from its dad—<br /> + I planned a little burglary and forged a little check<br /> + And slew a little baby for the coral on its neck!<br /> +</p> +<p> +But Father Brown seemed inclined to be forgiving, +and with a few remarks, ended, +</p> +<p> + We mustn’t be too hard upon these little girlish tricks—<br /> + Let’s see—five crimes at half a crown—exactly twelve and six.<br /> +</p> +<p> +Alice thanked him in a few grateful couplets, and +pulled out another bandanna with money tied up in it +from which she paid him. The ballad went on to +relate how Alice tremblingly confessed her last sin, +about the beautiful gentleman, who passed every day: +</p> +<p> + I blush to say, I’ve winked at him—and he has winked at me!<br /> +</p> +<p> +This shocked Father Paul for, as he explained, +</p> +<p> + If you should marry anyone respectable at all,<br /> + Why, you’d reform, and then what would become of Father Paul?<br /> +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span></div> +<p> +So he pulled up his cowl, the ballad went on to state—and +Louise went on to act—and trotted off to tell +the news to Robber Brown. +</p> +<p> +They came on together, while the Father repeated +the news, and stood consulting in the corner, while +Alice, from her actions, seemed to be thinking still +of the sorter. +</p> +<p> +Robber Brown took it quite calmly. He decided to +be quite kind to Alice about it—merely to +</p> +<p> + Nab that gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,<br /> + And get his wife to chop him into little bits.<br /> +</p> +<p> +He argued that Alice, after that, would not love him +any more. So, while Father Paul exited, Robber +Brown lay stealthily in wait, assisted by his wife. +Presently along came the gay young sorter again, waving +his hand jauntily to Alice. Robber Brown sprang +out, crossed directly in front of the sorter, who +appeared not to see him at all, and proceeded to track +him up and down the stage two or three times, with +Mrs. Brown trailing in the rear. After the three had +gone up and down twice (Alice, also, oblivious to her +parents’ presence, and throwing kisses to the sorter) +Robber Brown finally “took a life-preserver” in the +shape of a stout-looking stick, and pretended to fell the +gay young sorter. Immediately Mrs. Brown bounded +up with a piece of chalk, and proceeded to mark him +off in pieces for dissection, for, as Robber Brown +remarked: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +</p> +<p> + I have studied human nature and I know a thing or two—<br /> + Though a girl may fondly love a living chap, as many do,<br /> + Yet a feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall<br /> + When she looks upon her lover chopped particularly small!<br /> +</p> +<p> +Indeed, this terrifying sight as far as it went, seemed +to have the desired effect on Alice. To be sure, she fell +in a dead faint, and Father Paul had to catch her, while +Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and two more bandits (in bandannas) +carried off the late sorter; but immediately +afterward a young bandit, very much like Robber +Brown except that he was smaller, came in and was +patted with obvious admiration by Mr. and Mrs. Brown, +who led him up to Alice. She recovered slowly, sat up, +and presently accepted his attentions with pleasure. +Father Paul gave them his blessing, while Marie said: +</p> +<p> + And gentle little Alice grew more settled in her mind,<br /> + She never more was guilty of a weakness of that kind,<br /> + Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her little hand<br /> + On a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!<br /> +</p> +<p> +After that the curtain was drawn again, while the +girls dressed for Holmes’s “It Was a Gay Young +Oysterman.” This, while it was good, was not the hit +with the audience that “Gentle Alice Brown” had been. +When it was finished, and the oysterman and his bride +were seen “keeping a shop for mermaids down below,” +the girls took down the curtain, and while more music +was played the performers hurried into their pretty +dresses. Then they came out, and strolled about the +camp with the audience. +</p> +<p> +“Where are Vicky and Sandy?” Winona remembered to ask +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +Helen, as they met after the curtain was +down. “Did they come?” +</p> +<p> +“I think so,” said Helen, rubbing hard at her cork +mustache. “Adelaide, did you see Sandy anywhere?” +</p> +<p> +Adelaide, who was just braiding her hair, turned. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I did,” she said. “She’s here somewhere, +with another little girl. I saw them not long ago.” +</p> +<p> +Winona went in search of them, for when you ask +a guest to an entertainment it’s only polite to hunt her +up. It was not hard to find the sisters. They were +sitting with Louise, eating home-made ice-cream. +</p> +<p> +Winona sat down by them. +</p> +<p> +“I’m awfully glad you came, Vicky.” +</p> +<p> +“So’m I, too,” said Vicky. She seemed rather +shy here in the camp, but she looked happy. “I’m +having a nice time.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad,” said Winona. “Did you like the +moving pictures?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Vicky, “they were awfully funny. +And—oh, Winona, I’ve picked out a name.” +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Janet. Of course people can call me Vicky still, +if they want to, but my real name will be Janet. I +asked uncle, the way you said, and he said I did have +a middle name, Janet, after my grandmother.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s splendid!” said Winona. “I’m named +after my grandmother, too.” +</p> +<p> +“That makes us a sort of relation, doesn’t it?” +asked Vicky. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I hope it does,” was the hearty reply. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +</p> +<p> +“And there’s something I wanted to ask you about,” +said Vicky—now Janet—shyly. “Alone, I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“Come over here with me, and we’ll walk up and +down and talk about it,” invited Winona. +</p> +<p> +Vicky took her hand, and they strolled off down one +of the wood-paths. +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather not ask Louise,” explained Vicky, “because—well, +she laughs so about everything. She +might laugh at me. And that other girl is sort of +grown-up talking. But—well, it’s—I’d like to be like +the rest of the people—other little girls, you know—and +it’s dreadfully hard when you haven’t any father +or mother, and your uncle’s an artist with a temp’rament. +Sometimes he gets us governesses, and they say +we’re queer, and sometimes we just do as we please. +But—well, there isn’t anybody to show us things.” +</p> +<p> +She looked at Winona wistfully, as if she thought +she could show her how to be just like other children +all at once. +</p> +<p> +“Why do people always come to me to show them +how?” wondered Winona to herself. “I don’t know +any more about how to do things than the other girls.” +</p> +<p> +She did not realize that it was her sunniness and +sympathy—her Ray-of-Lightness, as Louise called it—together +with a certain straightforward common +sense, that made girls who wanted help come to her. +They could be sure that she would not laugh at them, +or tell anyone else what they had said, and they were +sure of advice that had brightness and sense. +</p> +<p> +“What sort of things do you want me to tell you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +asked Winona. “I’d love to help you, but some of the +others know lots more about things than I do.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s you I want to ask,” said Vicky decidedly. +“It’s my clothes, to begin with. Are they right?” +</p> +<p> +Winona stopped and looked Vicky over. They +were out in the open by now, and it was bright moonlight, +so she could see plainly what the little girl had +on. It was a blue taffeta, very stiff and rustling, +trimmed with plaid taffeta and black buttons. By its +looks it had been bought ready-made, for it had a sort +of gaudy smartness. It was of good material, but +somehow, it was cheap-looking. Also by its looks, +bread-and-butter had been eaten on or near it. +</p> +<p> +“You mean your dress?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Vicky. “It isn’t right, is it? But I don’t +know what to do about it. I bought it myself.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean your uncle gives you the money, and +you go and buy your own things?” asked Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Vicky. “But the ones the governesses +used to get weren’t much better. There was +one governess who always picked out bright green. I +hate green, anyway. And sometimes the cook used to. +She would yet if I’d let her. But I won’t. I don’t +think it’s any of her business.” +</p> +<p> +“Well——” Winona hesitated. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what had I better do?” demanded Vicky. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know!” said Winona frankly. “But I +do know that that silk dress is wrong. Why don’t you +get summer dresses, chambrays and ginghams and +organdies?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Vicky. “I never thought +about it. Silk is better, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think so,” said Winona. “It doesn’t wash. +You see this dress isn’t very clean.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” acknowledged Vicky. “Does being clean +count such a lot?” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” Words failed Winona. “I tell you,” +she said finally. “Why don’t you come over here and +join the Blue Birds, Vicky? Marie could tell you a lot of +things and it would be the quickest way to learn a lot +about being like other people, if that is what you want.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to,” said Vicky, “but I sort of keep house.” +</p> +<p> +“I have an idea, then,” said Winona. Now, when +Winona had ideas her friends usually waited to hear +what she had to say. “Why couldn’t some of the girls +come up and stay with you, after Camp is over? It +will be quite awhile even then before school opens. We +could help you—show you how to do things.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’d like that,” said Vicky. Then she stopped, +doubtfully. “That is, if I could pick out the ones.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course, you’d invite your own guests,” Winona +assured her. “And we’d pay what we cost your uncle +extra.... But what about him? It’s his house, +and he mightn’t like it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’d never care,” said Vicky. “He never +knows much about what goes on, anyway! And I know +he’d like to have me learn how to be a well-bred little +gentlewoman, because he talks about it sometimes. +And anyway he’s going off somewhere where he can’t +take us some time soon.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +</p> +<p> +“Then I don’t see why we can’t manage it!” said +Winona enthusiastically. “But I can tell you now +about the clothes. You want to buy dresses that will +wash. And you don’t ever want to play in silk dresses, +or even organdies or batistes—tree-climbing, and things +like that, I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“I might get some middies, like you wear,” said +Vicky thoughtfully. “And I suppose, long’s I’m going +to reform, I might as well get Sand to keep her dresses +on. She goes chasing out in her underwaist and +petticoat sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that was why she hadn’t any on when Louise +found her!” said Winona, seeing a light. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” confessed Vicky. “What’s that noise?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the horn,” said Winona. “It must mean +that it’s bedtime. She’s playing ‘taps.’ Mrs. Bryan +signals us with it, always.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I’d like to be a Blue Bird,” said Vicky. +“But I like the other plan better,” she added quickly. +</p> +<p> +“We’re going to be here quite a while longer,” said +Winona, “so you’ll have lots of time to think whether +you want us and whether your uncle will be willing.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right!” said Vicky as the two went +back to camp. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</h2> +<p> +It was quite true that the Camp was not to break +up for some time, owing to the Wampoag people’s +appetite for Camp jellies and linens; but so far as +Winona was concerned, life under the greenwood tree +received a sudden check. +</p> +<p> +It was a harmless-looking letter enough that the +detachment of Blue Birds brought up from the post-office. +Winona pounced on it with a cry of joy. “Oh, +a letter from mother!” she said. “And we only had +one yesterday, Florence!” So she tore it open. +</p> +<p> +“Dear Little Daughter,” it said, in a rather shakier +handwriting than was usual with Mrs. Merriam. “I +am sorry to have to tell you, as you are having such a +splendid time, that we need you here at home. Yesterday, +just after I had mailed my last letter to you, I +slipped on the wet cellar stairs, and went down from top +to bottom, and the result is a badly wrenched ankle. +The doctor says that it is a severe sprain. Clay is a +good little soul, but he can’t do very much more than +the helping out, and your father has to have his meals +and everything. So I shall have to ask my little girl +to come home and keep house for me. I will expect you +the day after you get this. Your loving mother.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Oh!</em>” cried Winona. “Oh, poor mother!” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter!” asked Florence. +</p> +<p> +“Mother’s sprained her ankle on the cellar stairs,” +said Winona, “and I have to go home. You needn’t, +Floss.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +</p> +<p> +“I shall, though,” said Florence—and the younger +Miss Merriam was a very determined little person. Her +eyes filled with tears. “Frances and Lucy and I had a +secret hike all planned,” she said. “Oh, dear, it is +so nice in camp! But I won’t let you go home and +nurse mother all alone, and you needn’t think it!” +</p> +<p> +Winona didn’t argue. She gave the letter to her +little sister to read, and went off in the woods to be +by herself. She climbed up to the platform that two of +the girls had built, and sat there. There was no use +denying it, she did not want to go home. She was +going, of course, and going to nurse her mother just +as well as she possibly could, and look after her father +with all the powers she had learned in the Camp Fire +activities. And she was sorry her mother’s ankle hurt +her—very, very sorry. But—oh, dear! There was a +beautiful new dance that Edith, who went into Wampoag +and got lessons, which she passed promptly on, +had been going to teach her. There was a new kind +of cooking she had been going to teach a group of +Blue Birds. There was a new dive—well, there were +any amount of things, that if anyone had asked her +about, she would have said she simply <em>couldn’t</em> break +off. But she had to. And cooking at home in August +was very different from doing it in the woods with a +lot of other girls—and everyone she knew well was +going to stay here— +</p> +<p> +Winona sat up and mopped her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“This isn’t the way to follow the law of the Fire!” +she reminded herself. “I can glorify work just as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> +well home as here—better, in fact, for it’s pretty certain +there’ll be more work to do!” She laughed a little. +</p> +<p> +“Coming up, Winona!” called Helen from below. +</p> +<p> +“Come on!” called back Winona. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter?” inquired Helen when she +gained the platform. “You’ve been crying.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got to go home.” Winona gave the news +briefly. “Mother’s sprained her ankle.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what a perfect shame!” said Helen. +</p> +<p> +“I know I’m taking it like a baby,” said Winona +with a gulp, “instead of being noble and acting as if +I liked going home. And of course I’m going. Only—only +I do wish mother had picked out any time but this +to sprain a perfectly good ankle!” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t she get somebody else to come take care +of things?” asked Helen. “I don’t know how on +earth we’ll get along without you, Win. You never +say much, but somehow you’re the centre of things. +We’ll miss you awfully!” +</p> +<p> +Winona blushed at the compliment, and reached +down to pat Helen’s hand. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a dear, Helen, to think so. But you’ll all +get along all right. It’s I that will have most of the +missing to do. No, there’s nobody mother could get. +Aunt Jenny’s off in the White Mountains, getting well +from something herself. And all we have at home is +Clay—the little colored boy mother got at the Children’s +Aid. From what Tom said he’s a regular Topsy. No, +I have to go home. Oh, think of it, Helen! Hot housekeeping +all August and half September, with every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +single girl I know well up here, canoeing and swimming +and folk-dancing and all sorts of splendid things! +You’ll all have beads down to your feet.” +</p> +<p> +This time it was Helen who patted Winona. +</p> +<p> +Presently Winona mopped her eyes again and threw +back her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“Come along, Helen; I’ve had my little weep out. +Now I’m going to tell Mrs. Bryan about it, and trot +off home looking pleased to death at the prospect.” +</p> +<p> +They swung themselves down from the tree-house, +and started back to camp at a slow run. There was a +good deal to do. There was everything of Winona’s +to pack, and Florence’s, too, if she was really going, and +she insisted that she was. +</p> +<p> +“I won’t be a bit of trouble,” she said, “and I’ll +be a real help. You’ll see!” +</p> +<p> +So they packed everything, and said good-bye to +everybody, and were paddled up the lake to Wampoag, +where they were to take the train for home. They had +to stop over at the Scouts’ camp and break the news +to Tom. But Winona invited him fervently to stay +where he was. She knew that with the best will in +the world to be useful a boy makes more work than he +does, and has to be cooked for to quite an extent. Tom +said he would be down the next day to see his mother, +but he would go back again. +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye, dears,” said Mrs. Bryan, who was seeing +them off, when she parted from Florence and +Winona at the dock, “I know you’ll be happy. Remember +we’ll miss you all the time, Ray-of-Light. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +I don’t know what I’ll do without Florence to run +errands for me. Come back as soon as your mother +can spare you.” +</p> +<p> +“We will,” said Winona. “Only it feels like the +poetry—don’t you remember? +</p> +<p> + “Remember what I tell you, says the old man to his son—<br /> + Be good and you’ll be happy—but you won’t have any fun!”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Just the same,” said the Guardian, “being what +you are, Winona, I’d venture to promise you that in +the long run you will get more happiness out of being +happy than out of having fun.” +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed as she kissed her good-bye. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to plan ways for glorifying work and +being happy all the way down on the train,” she said, +“but I haven’t any—well—thoroughly planned—yet!” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +It was nearly nightfall when Winona reached +home, for she had not started till a late afternoon +train. She found her mother established in the living-room, +where a door opening on the hall gave her a good +view of the kitchen, and Clay in it. She looked well, +but tired, and her foot was bandaged and on a pillow. +</p> +<p> +“You’re sure you didn’t mind coming home, dear?” +was the first thing her mother said. “It was a shame +you had to!” +</p> +<p> +Winona had to reassure her mother so fervently +about her being willing to come back, and even liking +to, that she began to find she really did! It was pleasant +there, after all. The garden was full of blooming +flowers, and it was a cool, pleasant day. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +</p> +<p> +“What shall I do first, mother?” she asked, as she +and Florence sat each with one of their mother’s hands, +and tried to tell her all about everything at once. +</p> +<p> +“The first thing for you to do,” said Mrs. Merriam, +“is to get baths and put on cool dresses, both of you, +and come down to dinner. Your father and Clay are +getting it. You aren’t to do a thing till to-morrow, +dear. You must be tired with your trip.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think anything could tire me!” said +Winona blithely. And she and Florence, as each of +them in turn took baths in the one thing a camp doesn’t +possess—a bathtub—felt that it was good to be home +and have mother pet you, after all! +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is good to have you back, children,” +said their father, as he sat with a daughter on each side +of him after dinner. They had their mother out on the +back porch with them. It was nearly as large as the +front one, and she could be moved, couch and all, +through a front window with very little trouble. “Now +I can have an afternoon off from housekeeping. But +I’ve done well, haven’t I, Mary?” +</p> +<p> +“You certainly have,” said Mrs. Merriam, “and +it’s been hard for you, too. But now that I have my +Camp Fire Girls back nobody’s going to need to do +one thing.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a thing!” said Florence. “We’ve learned +ever so many things, mother. We’re going to house-keep +better’n you ever did!” +</p> +<p> +The family shouted. It was so like Florence. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think quite that,” said Winona modestly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +“But we’re going to have a lovely time running things, +anyway!” +</p> +<p> +So next morning the “lovely time” began. +</p> +<p> +It seemed queer to waken on a mattress instead of +on a pine bed; still stranger to hear the alarm-clock +go off. Winona did not like alarm-clocks, and she +threw a pillow at it before she stopped to think. But she +got up as it told her, for all that, and was downstairs +in twenty minutes. She had put on a blue ripplette +work-dress, fresh and pretty. It was pleasant to have +on a pretty frock instead of the camp uniform. +</p> +<p> +“There are lots of nice things!” she said to herself +sturdily. “I’m going to enjoy myself every minute, if +I have to tie a string to my finger to remind me!” +</p> +<p> +She found Clay, whose acquaintance she had made +the night before, already down. The cereal was in the +double boiler and the coffee in the percolator, already. +</p> +<p> +“Hit ain’ much to do fo’ breakfast,” said he encouragingly. +“Ah do it maself, mos’ly.” And indeed +he proved so expert that all Winona found left her to +do was gathering the flowers for the table, and cutting +the oranges. Breakfast had more frills than usual, +though—Winona had come home prepared for work, +and she found some to do. The oranges were loosened +back from their skins like grape-fruit, there were finger-bowls +with flower-petals floating on top, the cereal +dishes had little plates underneath, and even the hot +corn-bread, which Winona, by the way, discovered Clay +did not know how to make, was stacked in a highly +artistic log-cabin pattern. Winona, with a little white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +apron over her fresh blue dress, sat and poured the +coffee importantly. Her father smiled with pleasure, +as she sat opposite him, flushed and pretty and dainty. +</p> +<p> +“Well!” he said. “This is certainly a fine beginning, +Winnie! Did you learn all this in the woods?” +</p> +<p> +Winona colored with pleasure. +</p> +<p> +“No, I think I knew most of it before I went,” she +said. “That is, all but the corn-bread—that was an +experiment.” +</p> +<p> +“And see!” said Florence. “Flowers in the +finger-bowls!” +</p> +<p> +“But you mustn’t work too hard, little daughter,” +said her father, as he went into the living-room to bid +his wife good-bye before he went to business. +</p> +<p> +Winona followed him closely with her mother’s +tray. Mrs. Merriam was dressed, and Mr. Merriam had +helped her downstairs and to her couch. It had been +rather fun to arrange the tray with doilies and the +daintiest china. She carried it in as her father came out. +</p> +<p> +“Good-morning, mother!” she said gayly. “Things +are going beautifully, and housekeeping’s fun!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s my brave little girl!” said her mother. +“But I must warn you, Ray-of-Light, that you’ll get +over-tired if you try to put on too many trimmings. +The trouble with housekeeping is, you never get a vacation. +It keeps on all day long. Simplify all you can.” +</p> +<p> +Winona laughed. “I refuse to start on your tray!” +said she. +</p> +<p> +She made her mother as comfortable as she could, +then went back to the kitchen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +</p> +<p> +“Now, Clay,” she said, “Mrs. Merriam’s sent for +me to come home to run things. You and I are going to +get as much fun out of the work as we can, and do it +just as well and as fast as we know how. Aren’t we?” +</p> +<p> +“Yas’m,” said Clay doubtfully. “But dey ain’ no +fun to be got outen washin’ dishes,” he added with +conviction. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked thoughtful. +</p> +<p> +“No, I suppose there isn’t,” she admitted. “But +there ought to be. Up at the Camp we got credit for +what we did, if it was done right. I wonder——” +</p> +<p> +“You mean dem credits what folks buys groceries +with?” interrupted Clay. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Winona. “But—I’ll tell you, Clay, I +have a plan! I’ll put a chart up here on the kitchen +wall. Every time you get the dishes washed and put +away in half an hour, without breaking them, three +times a day for a week, you get credit—for fifteen +cents. What do you think of that?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah like it!” said Clay. “But Ah rather have de +two cents a day.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” promised Winona rashly. “Now go +ahead with the dishes while I put fresh paper on the +shelves.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t take it too hard, dear,” Mrs. Merriam +warned her once more, when Winona ran in, breathless +from vigorous bedmaking, to report progress. “What +are you going to do now?” +</p> +<p> +“Now? Nothing till lunch time. I’m so glad we +have dinner at night. It’ll be lots easier to get the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +hardest meal when it’s cooler, and there’s been a rest +between.” +</p> +<p> +“You dear child!” said her mother, reaching out +her hand to Winona where she sat by the sofa. “You’re +bound to look on the bright side.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m bound to glorify work and be happy,” said +Winona gayly. “Now, mother, I’d like some money. +I’d rather not start with a regular housekeeping allowance +till Monday. But right now I want a dish-mop, +and a soap-maker, and some new white oil-cloth for +the kitchen dresser. Can I have all that?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly,” said her mother. “Keep the kitchen +as spic and span as you can. The fresher the surroundings, +the easier it is to work.” +</p> +<p> +So after luncheon, which wasn’t much trouble because +there was no man to cook for, Winona and Florence +went shopping, leaving Clay singing “Ma Honey +Man” cheerfully over his dishes. The money their +mother had given them bought not only the things +Winona went after, but pink and blue chambray for +aprons for herself and Florence, and red for Clay. +</p> +<p> +“The pretty aprons will make it more fun to be in +the kitchen—don’t you think so, Florence?” asked +Winona. +</p> +<p> +Florence, naturally, thought so, too, and they +bought them and made them up before the day was +over. Florence asked of her own accord for definite +things to do. And an idea came to Winona—that they +start a system of home honor-beads. +</p> +<p> +“Of course they won’t really count,” she explained +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +to her little sister, “but they’ll always be there to remind +us of our work.” +</p> +<p> +“That will be lovely!” said Florence, “but what +will they be like?” +</p> +<p> +“Wait and see,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +That day was all used up making the new long +aprons and the mob-caps to match, dainty and Kate-Greenaway +looking. But the next morning after the +beds were done they went to sit with their mother. +She said they could make the beads there with her. +Winona ran out into the garden and brought back +a handful of flowers that she put in water, and set +beside her mother’s couch. +</p> +<p> +“How do you feel, mother?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“It doesn’t hurt badly at all,” said her mother +cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +Winona carried out the tray, and moved about, +straightening her mother’s room a little more before +she sat down to her work. +</p> +<p> +“You’re sure we’re not in your way, mother?” +she asked. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed you aren’t!” said her mother. “You don’t +know how lonely I’ve been with all my children gone. +And do let in all the air and sunshine you can, dear. +It may be hot later, so that we’ll have to shut out the +light a part of the day.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Winona, doing it. Then she +called to Florence. +</p> +<p> +“Florence, will you get the oil-paints that we use +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +for stencilling?” she asked. “I can borrow them, +mother, can’t I?” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Merriam was perfectly willing, and while +Florence was getting the tubes of paints, and the +brushes, Winona brought out a jar of ordinary kidney-beans +from the kitchen. She spread newspapers on +the floor and on the table, and when Florence came +back with the paint she set to work. +</p> +<p> +“Just beans!” said Florence scornfully. “You +can’t make beads out of <em>them!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t I?” said Winona, “Well, if you don’t like +them when they’re done, I’ll buy you a string of any +kind of colored ones that you want.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” said Florence, settling down to +watch her sister. +</p> +<p> +The first thing Winona did was to pierce each of the +beans lengthwise with a steel knitting-needle, which she +heated in the alcohol lamp’s flame. This was the longest +part of the work. Next she strung them all on a long +piece of cord. Then while Florence held one end of +the cord and she the other, Winona dashed each bead +in turn with touches of color, one after another—rose, +blue, green and violet. She finished them with little +flecks of gold paint, and fastened one end to the chandelier, +where the beads could swing free and dry soon. +The girls got luncheon while the beads were drying. +</p> +<p> +After luncheon was eaten and cleared away the girls +went to work on their beads again. Florence held the +string while Winona went over them with shellac. +</p> +<p> +“I think we’d better put them outdoors this time,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +she decided. “The smell of the shellac may worry +mother.” +</p> +<p> +So they swung the beads from the hammock rope. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think you will want to wear them?” she +asked Florence, as she came back and began to clear +away the paint-spotted newspapers. +</p> +<p> +“I should just think I would!” said Florence enthusiastically. +“Why, they look just like the ones in +the Wampoag stores, only lots prettier.” +</p> +<p> +“Who told you how to make them, Winnie?” +asked her mother. “They are certainly lovely.” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody,” said Winona. “I saw some like them, +and thought I could do it—that’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“I think you ought to get a real honor-bead for +that,” said Florence. “I’m going to put down everything +you do that I think might get honors for you.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll keep track, too,” said Mrs. Merriam. “That’s +a good idea, Florence. Then perhaps Winona’s having +to leave the Camp won’t be such a setback. Give me +a pencil, dear, and that little black notebook by it.” +</p> +<p> +They wrote down the making of the beads. +</p> +<p> +“We must keep watch, you and I, Florence,” Mrs. +Merriam said. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked radiant. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to write to Camp now, mother,” she +said, “and I’ll ask Mrs. Bryan about counting things +like this. It would be lovely if I got on as fast here +as there—but I don’t believe it’s possible.” +</p> +<p> +“Wait and see,” said Mrs. Merriam. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</h2> +<p> +Of course, things didn’t always go smoothly, even +with Winona’s young energy and good-will hard at +work. “Accidents will happen in the best regulated +families” was a proverb whose meaning Winona +learned thoroughly before she was through. There +was, for instance, a tragic Saturday when she made +ice-cream with most of the ice in the ice-box, and forgot +to telephone for more. A sizzlingly hot Sunday +dawned, with no ice to be had. So the Sunday chicken +and lettuce were badly spoiled, not to mention various +tempers. Winona, tired, hot, and with a consciousness +of guilt, spent most of Sunday afternoon in the kitchen +trying crossly to invent a Sunday night supper which +did not need milk, eggs or salad. The day ended with +a found-at-the-last-minute meal of potted tongue and +canned peaches, and a general forgiveness all round, +but it was a long time after that before Winona forgot +it; indeed, she was known to get out of bed to take final +peeps at the ice-chest and make sure it was filled. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, and in spite of all the mishaps that +are bound to worry housekeepers, a light heart, a strong +body and the fixed intention to make the best of things +carried Winona triumphantly past her worries. Presently +she found that things were settling into a regular +routine, and that housekeeping was more interesting +than hard. Best of all, she found she had a great deal +of time to herself. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +</p> +<p> +Then Tom came home. The Scouts had had to +break up earlier than they expected, for two or three +reasons. One was that Mr. Gedney had to get back +to his business, another was that several of the boys +worked, and had to get back, too. So Tom descended +on his family, and Billy appeared next door. And +things began to happen. +</p> +<p> +Tom tried faithfully not to be any trouble, and +succeeded pretty well. And Mrs. Merriam’s ankle got +better, slowly, as bad sprains do. Presently she was +well enough to be taken in a wheel chair to see her +friends. She usually went to spend the day. +</p> +<p> +One day everything seemed particularly calm and +serene. Tom had wheeled the mother to the other end +of town, early in the morning, and she was going to be +taken for a long automobile ride by one of her friends. +Tom had taken a pocketful of sandwiches, and gone +off for a fishing-trip. So Winona built a mound of +more sandwiches for herself and Florence, and prepared +to take a day off. +</p> +<p> +She was curled up on the front porch in a hammock, +reading, when the first thing occurred. +</p> +<p> +“Does Miss Winona Merriam live here?” inquired +a familiar voice; and Winona, looking up, saw Louise, +dusty and beaming. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Louise, you angel! How lovely it is to see +you!” she said, jumping up and hugging her friend. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, isn’t it?” said Louise, hugging back. “I +came down on the train, and I’m here to spend the day, +if you want me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +</p> +<p> +“Want you! I should think I did!” said Winona. +“Come in and get cool.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not hot,” said Louise, “but I <em>would</em> like a +drink of water.” +</p> +<p> +They were in the kitchen, fussing about pleasurably +together, when they heard steps clattering up the porch. +</p> +<p> +“It’s the ice-man,” said Winona. “I must pay him.” +</p> +<p> +She ran upstairs, and Louise went on helping herself +to sandwiches. She had eaten three, and was considering +whether she really wanted anything more till lunch-time, +when a large, fishy hand dropped over her shoulder +and took a handful of ham-and-lettuce ones. +</p> +<p> +“Tom Merriam! There won’t be enough for lunch +if we both eat them! I thought you’d gone off fishing +for the day.” +</p> +<p> +“So did I,” said Tom leisurely, “but I found I +hadn’t. Where did you blow in from?” +</p> +<p> +“Camp,” she said. “Winona’s upstairs hunting for +change. She thought you walked like the ice-man.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor Win! She has that ice-man on her mind,” +said Tom. “Nay, nay, little one. For far other reason +am I here.” +</p> +<p> +He struck an attitude, with the sandwich he hadn’t +finished waving over his head. +</p> +<p> +“Got hungry?” asked Louise prosaically. +</p> +<p> +“Not at all,” said Tom. “It was this way. As I +was purchasing bait, I met my father.” +</p> +<p> +“Well—did he send you home?” +</p> +<p> +“Not exactly. Only—there’s a convention in town. +A ministers’ convention. And father’s met two long-lost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +college chums, which—or who—are coming here to +dinner to-night. One has a wife. Better tell Winona, +and have Clay put on some extra plates. And—I forgot—here’s +a fish I caught before I used up my bait +and met father. Have him boiled or something for +dinner with some of that stuff like mayonnaise dressing +with green things in.” +</p> +<p> +“Your father?” asked Louise frivolously. +</p> +<p> +“No, the fish!” +</p> +<p> +Tom rushed upstairs to change his clothes, while +Louise thoughtfully ate another sandwich and called +Winona. +</p> +<p> +Winona came running down the back stairs. +</p> +<p> +“Did you keep him?” she said. “I couldn’t find +where I’d put the change.” +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t the ice-man,” said Louise, “it was +Tom.” +</p> +<p> +“Tom?” asked Winona. “But he was gone for +the day.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway, he’s back. And—Winona Merriam, +we’ll have to make more sandwiches for supper, or +dinner or whatever it is. Two ministers and one wife +are coming here to dinner to-night.” +</p> +<p> +Winona sprang to her feet and snapped her book +shut. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Sandwiches!</em>” she said scornfully. “Don’t you +know you have to <em>feed</em> convention people? Mother +would die, and the Ladies’ Aid faint in a body, if we +gave them sandwiches for dinner. No. They have to +have a course dinner!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +</p> +<p> +“Where are you going to get it?” asked Louise +meekly. +</p> +<p> +“Here!” said Winona. “I found one in a magazine +the other day. Let’s see what we can do with it.” +</p> +<p> +Louise looked at Winona with respect. “Do you +often rise to occasions this way?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“This is the almost human intelligence that I have +sometimes,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Sure it’s intelligence?” asked Louise doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +Winona led the way upstairs toward her scrapbook +without deigning to reply. Both girls bent eagerly over +the course dinner she had pasted in on the last page. +</p> +<p> +“Shellfish, soup, fish, salad, roast, entrees, vegetables, +dessert, black coffee, cheese, nuts and raisins,” +she read. “These, in the order named, constitute a +simple dinner.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to know who brought up the woman who +wrote that,” commented Louise. “The Emperor of +Russia, I should think.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway, I am going to try to have it,” said +Winona. “We can have oysters to begin with, because +Tom always has some around for bait.” +</p> +<p> +“That kind mayn’t be good to eat,” objected Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind. Perhaps these people won’t know +the difference, just think they’re a brand-new kind.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t open them till the very last thing, and +then you serve them with ice on their heads to keep +them cool, and lemon slices. I know that much,” said +Louise, following Winona downstairs again. +</p> +<p> +“Then we won’t open them till the very last thing, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +and forget all about them till Tom comes downstairs +again,” said Winona with decision. “Soup—let’s see. +Oh, I know! Mother had me make some bouillon this +morning, for old Mrs. Johnson down in Hallam’s Alley. +We’ll serve that in the bouillon cups, and make Mrs. +Johnson some more to-morrow, or take her chewing-tobacco +instead. She’d much rather have it, she says.” +</p> +<p> +“All right. And Tom brought some fish in,” supplied +Louise. +</p> +<p> +They went out to inspect the fish, and found that +there would be plenty, if it was carefully distributed. +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t everything dovetail beautifully?” said +Winona thankfully. “What’s next?” +</p> +<p> +“Salad,” said Louise, consulting the scrapbook. +“Haven’t you any lettuce in the garden?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course we have!” said Winona. “All there +is to do is to pick it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well—the roast?” +</p> +<p> +But here there was a deadlock. +</p> +<p> +“There isn’t a thing in the house to roast,” said +Winona, “and this time of year you have to telephone +early to get things.” She moved to the telephone, and +pulled herself back in dismay. “This is Wednesday!” +she said. “And all the shops are closed Wednesday +afternoon!” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t afternoon, yet,” said Louise. +</p> +<p> +“Look at the clock,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +And it was afternoon—one o’clock. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps that’s a stray butcher,” said Louise, as +they heard a long, loud knock at the kitchen door. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +</p> +<p> +But it was only Billy Lee, who explained that he +had tried every door but this in vain. He had a note +to Winona from his sister. He perched himself on the +stationary tubs while she read it, on the chance that she +might want to write an answer. +</p> +<p> +“Come over and stay with me this afternoon,” it +said. “I have a headache.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I can’t, Billy!” explained Winona, looking +up from the note. “We have dinner to get for two +ministers and their wife, and—Billy, you have a great +deal of steady common sense. I heard father say so. +What would you do if there wasn’t any meat, or any +time to get any, or any place to get it?” +</p> +<p> +Billy tucked his foot under him, and looked serious, +mechanically taking a sandwich as he thought. The +girls were eating them, too, for it had been silently +agreed that that would be all the lunch they would +bother with. +</p> +<p> +“Why not try Puppums?” he suggested. “If +they’re missionaries they’re used to roast dog. Every +missionary has to learn to like it in the last year of his +course.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, or we might roast Clay,” said Louise scornfully. +“Why don’t you suggest that? He isn’t any +use, goodness knows, and they may have been missionaries +to the cannibals!” She glanced at the small darky, +who was sitting on the cellar door in happy idleness, +singing fragments of popular songs to himself. +</p> +<p> +“You ought to make him useful,” said Billy. +“Here, Clay, get up and help your young ladies.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ah <em>is</em> helpin’ ’em,” said Clay with dignity; nevertheless +he rose and came in for further orders. +</p> +<p> +“Down home,” continued Billy, “we always kill +a chicken when we expect a minister.” +</p> +<p> +“But we haven’t so much as a papier-mache Easter +chick,” objected Louise. +</p> +<p> +“The people next door but one have,” said Winona +excitedly, starting up. “It’s against the law to keep +chickens within the city limits, but they do it. But +they’re away for the day.” +</p> +<p> +“They’re always getting into your garden and +tempting poor old Puppums to chase them,” said Billy +sympathetically. +</p> +<p> +Winona, acting on his suggestion, went to the door +and looked out. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” she said. “There’s one there now. There +nearly always is.” +</p> +<p> +Louise lifted one eyebrow. “Well?” said she. +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said Winona. “Come on, ladies and +gentlemen. We are going to catch a next-door-but-one +chicken, and pay the Janeways for him to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“When Puppums caught one last week,” said Florence, +appearing suddenly, evidently in full possession of +the conversation, “you tied it round his neck!” +</p> +<p> +She went down under the tubs to extract the +wronged animal and sympathize with him on the injustice +of life. But only Puppums heard her, for Billy +and Winona, hindered by Clay, were careering wildly +about after a vociferous, very agile fowl. It was finally +captured with a crab-net, and led away to execution +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +by Clay. It appeared that he, also, had had experience +in chicken-killing for clergymen. He had often done +it, he said, very artistically. +</p> +<p> +As he and the rooster passed on their way to the +scaffold, Winona ran into the kitchen, and out again +with a scream. +</p> +<p> +“It’s Henry!” she said wildly. “It’s Henry! +We’ve caught the Janeways’s pet rooster! Clay! +Clay!” +</p> +<p> +“Yas’m!” said Clay, appearing with Henry’s head +in one hand and his body in the other. “Dis heah +roosteh she certn’ly is good an’ daid! I c’n fix ’em!” +</p> +<p> +“And they loved him so!” said Winona tragically. +“They were telling mother only yesterday how intellectual +he was. ‘Not clever, merely,’ Mrs. Janeway said, +‘but really intellectual, my dear Mrs. Merriam!’” +</p> +<p> +Billy clutched the tubs in order to laugh better, and +Louise sat down just where she was, on the floor. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter?” called Tom, running downstairs +very clean and tidy. +</p> +<p> +“Winona’s murdered the Janeways’s intellectual +rooster!” explained Billy; and lay back on the tubs +again. +</p> +<p> +Tom, too, began to howl. +</p> +<p> +“What—Henry?” he said, when he could speak. +“Oh, Winnie, you <em>have</em> done it! They’ve had him in +the family since their grandfather’s time anyway. Well, +you’d better make the best of it, and have Clay take out +his interior decorations. Maybe we can eat him if you +boil him long enough. I could have robbed the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +Martins’s tank of their tame goldfish if I’d known you +wanted a dinner of household pets.” He sat down +on the tubs by Billy and went off again. +</p> +<p> +“I suggested Puppums in the first place!” gurgled +Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind, Win,” said Louise, going over to +Winona, who stood mournfully by the window, “I’ll +attend to Henry. We’ll boil him first and then bake +him, and he’ll be quite good. I’ll make the stuffing for +him, too. I know how quite well.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, thank you, Louise!” and Winona brightened +up. +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” teased Billy, “then the remorse isn’t because +he’s Henry, but because he’s tough?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s both,” said Winona, “but there’s no use being +uselessly remorseful when you have work to do. I +can feel ever so badly about it when I go to bed to-night. +I often do. The fish is all right, anyway, and I’m going +to make some sauce hollandaise for it out of the cookbook. +Really all you need to know how to cook is a +cookbook and intelligence.” +</p> +<p> +“I see the cookbook, but where——” began Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Billy Lee,” said Winona firmly, “if you came to +see Tom, won’t you please take him out on the front +porch and see him?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t!” said Billy coolly. “I came to bring +Nataly’s note, and I’m staying to see you invent a ten-course +dinner, if you’ll let me. Let me stay to dinner, +Henry and all, and I’ll make your fish-sauce. All you +need is a cookbook and intelligence——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +</p> +<p> +“Two clergymen,” counted Winona, “one wife, +father, Louise, Tom, me—Florence is going out to supper, +she said this morning. You’ll just make eight, +Billy. Come and welcome, only please leave the fish-sauce +alone.” +</p> +<p> +But Billy had already tied himself into a big pink +apron, and was mixing butter and flour in a saucepan +with every sign of knowing what he was about. +</p> +<p> +There was a brief, tense silence while the chicken, +some white potatoes and onions, were put on to boil, +sweet potatoes laid in the oven to be baked, and Clay +sent into the garden for lettuce and radishes. They did +not light any of the gas-stove burners except the one +under the late Henry, because the afternoon was yet +long. They went out on the porch and talked for a +couple of hours. There was a general feeling that they +mustn’t get too far away from the dinner. +</p> +<p> +About four Winona remembered to say to Tom, +“Have you any bait-clams or oysters? We need them +for our first course.” +</p> +<p> +“Bait!” said Tom. “Considering we’ve stolen the +meat from the neighbors, and robbed the poor of the +soup, and I caught the fish, we can afford to buy a few +blue-points. I’ll go down and get them. Is there anything +else you’d like while I’m down town?” +</p> +<p> +“Is it too late to order ice-cream?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid so,” he said. “The ice-cream places +won’t be open till five-thirty, and then only for an hour, +you know.” +</p> +<p> +“The dairies are,” Winona remembered. “Please +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +buy some cream on your way back, and we’ll find a +receipt and make it. There are nuts and raisins in the +house. Crackers—cheese.... I think we’ll have +enough for dinner.” +</p> +<p> +“I shouldn’t wonder!” said her brother thoughtfully, +as he walked away to get his wheel. +</p> +<p> +The others went back to the kitchen, and Billy went +on with his sauce hollandaise—that is, he took it out of +the bowl of water where it had been cooling, and put +it in the ice-chest. +</p> +<p> +“Why, it’s good!” said Winona, rather impolitely, +having sampled it on its way. +</p> +<p> +“Of course it’s good!” said Billy serenely. “Didn’t +I ever tell you about our old cook down south, and how +I adored her? I used to tag round after her all the +time when I was small—never would stay with my +nurse—and I learned a lot of things. And seeing I’m +going to be invited to this banquet, looks like I’d better +make the ice-cream for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, can you?” +</p> +<p> +“Watch me!” said Billy for all answer. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, when Tom got back with the +blue-points and the cream, he and Billy went to work +together, and they compounded a pineapple ice-cream +that was fit for the gods. Louise, meanwhile, stuffed +the parboiled fowl and put him in to roast. The boys +captured Clay, who had gone back to his cellar door and +his songs, and set him to crushing ice. Winona sat +down on the tubs where Billy had been, and gave herself +up to deep thought. The entree had not yet been solved. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +</p> +<p> +“Pancake batter?” she said aloud at last, in a +mildly conversational tone. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sure of it,” said Billy, poking his head in +from the back porch. +</p> +<p> +“If I take that pancake batter I got ready for to-morrow +morning, sweeten it, and put butter and eggs +and peaches in it, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be peach +fritters. Anyway I can try ... then you drop +them in the lard....” +</p> +<p> +She thought it over a little longer silently. Then +she jumped down, and went into the cellar for the +batter and the peaches, and brought them out on the +back porch, near the ice-box, to experiment with. Tom +had gone back to the pantry to see if there was cake +enough, but Billy was still packing ice and salt around +the ice-cream. +</p> +<p> +“Dear me!” said Winona, setting down her load +on a low shelf. “I hate to see you doing all this. +You’re company, you know, and here we’re letting you +get a lot of the dinner. It worries me!” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t let it,” counselled Billy, tossing a lock of +hair out of his eyes and going on with the packing. +“I’m having a good time. To tell you the truth, I +always have a good time over here. I rather feel as +if I belonged to the family—and that’s a nice feel to +have. You’re a good little chum, Winnie.... If +you don’t let me pack all the freezers and things I +want to I’ll just have to go back to merely being let +in once in awhile, like company.” +</p> +<p> +“I feel as if you belonged to the family, too, Billy,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span> +said Winona sincerely, “and if your packing freezers +is any sign you do, go right on, please.” +</p> +<p> +“I am,” Billy assured her with his usual placidity. +</p> +<p> +“The lard’s hot, Win! Come see if they’ll frit!” +called Louise from within; and Winona dashed off with +her batter. But it was nice to have Billy feel that way +about things. He was certainly the nicest boy she +knew.... +</p> +<p> +They began together, she and Louise, to drop the +yellow batter into the fat, while Clay and the boys +turned the freezer by turns. Louise and Winona had +become so excited about their dinner by this time that +a mere fritter-sauce was nothing. They made one, it +seemed to them afterwards, looking back, without +knowing how they did it, and it was very good at that. +</p> +<p> +“Oysters, soup, fish, salad,” muttered Winona for +the twentieth time. “I believe everything’s ready but +the cream, and that must be almost finished. Boys!” +she called out through the back door, “will you please +go and deck yourselves for the feast? Wear your +tuxedos, please. We’re going to keep up the Merriam +reputation for hospitality, or die in the attempt!” +</p> +<p> +“All right—just wait till we pack it,” Tom called +back. +</p> +<p> +But she saw that they had separated in quest of +their evening clothes before she left. Tom had just +acquired his first set, and wasn’t particularly fond of +them. But he put them on meekly, just the same. +</p> +<p> +“We’d better dress, too,” said Louise. “I’ll run +over home and slip some things in a suitcase, and be +right back again.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</h2> +<p> +Louise was as good as her word. She was back in +a very few minutes, and in Winona’s room again. +She found her friend standing in the middle of the +floor, her dress exactly what it had been when she left. +</p> +<p> +“Better hurry,” warned Louise. “We haven’t +overmuch time.” +</p> +<p> +“Hurry!” said Winona despairingly. “How can +I? Do you know what I’ve done? I’ve hung away +every single thin dress I own in the wardrobe, instead +of putting them in the wash. I knew there was something +I’d forgotten, and I couldn’t think what it was.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how dreadful!” said Louise. “You’ll have +to put on something gorgeous, to match the boys’ +clothes.” +</p> +<p> +“What can I do?” asked Winona sadly, and swung +open the doors of her wardrobe. There, crumpled, forlorn, +dejected, hung a line of dresses each hopelessly +past wearing in its present state. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t that a nice trick for a Camp Fire Girl?” +inquired Winona scornfully. “It’s the kind of thing +you’d lecture a Blue Bird kindly but firmly for doing, +and make her see what a wreck she was going to make +of her whole life if she kept on.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Louise soothingly. “You’ve +had so many other things to do, it’s no wonder you +couldn’t remember that. Haven’t you anything but +wash dresses? Where’s your yellow silk voile?” +</p> +<p> +“I <em>did</em> remember that!” said Winona with a reluctant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +grin. “I sent it to the cleaner’s day before yesterday. +It won’t be done till Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +“What about your flowered dimity? Is all the +freshness out of that? You don’t wear it often.” +</p> +<p> +“I sent for it from camp, for one of the girls to +use in the Samantha tableaux, and the girl still has it, +I suppose. She never gave it back. I forgot to ask +for it, in the hurry of getting home. There’s no +use trying to think. I’ve thought and thought, and +everything else is too hot to wear, or soiled. There’s +nothing for it but a shirtwaist and skirt.” +</p> +<p> +“Anything of mine would be up to your knees, +and baggy,” said Louise thoughtfully. “Wait a minute, +Win, till I think.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll do my hair while you’re at it,” said Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Why couldn’t you borrow something of your +mother’s?” was Louise’s next thought. +</p> +<p> +“Mother wears long dresses,” said Winona. “If +she didn’t I could—I’m nearly her build.” +</p> +<p> +“Couldn’t you pin them up?” +</p> +<p> +“I declare, I believe I’ll try,” exclaimed Winona +daringly. She ran out of the room, while Louise went +on with her own dressing, and came back in a minute +with a fresh, silk-lined black organdy over her arm. +</p> +<p> +“This is all there is for it,” she said. “Mother +would be willing, I know, if she were here. She always +wants me to wear her things.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s lovely,” said Louise admiringly, as Winona’s +pink cheeks and blue eyes appeared above the soft black, +“but I’m afraid we’ll hurt it if we put pins in it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +</p> +<p> +“I won’t pin it up, then,” said Winona. “The +guests will never know the difference. I don’t suppose +father has mentioned my age.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll look awfully old!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care! Have you any black hair-ribbons +you could let me have, Louise? I see where I never +get the honor bead for not borrowing, by the way!” +</p> +<p> +“You won’t lose it on account of my ribbons,” said +Louise, “because I haven’t any. But I don’t believe +hair-ribbons and your gown would match. Did you +know you had a train?” +</p> +<p> +“No!” said Winona joyfully. She loved “dressing +up,” and this was beginning to look very much like +it. “I’ll do my hair up on top of my head, and nobody’ll +think I’m younger than twenty!” +</p> +<p> +“Good!” said Louise, and helped. They wound the +goldy-brown mass up on the very top, and completed +the effect by hunting out a pair of plain glass eye-glasses, +which Tom had brought from the ten-cent +store once long ago. +</p> +<p> +“You look twenty-five anyway!” exclaimed Louise, +and Winona fitted the glasses on her nose and assumed +a severe expression to match. “Put your hair back off +your forehead—that way.... That’s splendid!” +</p> +<p> +“I do look old!” said Winona, with a pleased expression. +She trained up and down the room and +looked at herself in the glass. “I’ll go down now.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be there in a minute,” said Louise. “Don’t +wait for me.” +</p> +<p> +When Winona sailed down in her disguise to put the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +finishing touches to the table she found that Tom was +already dressed, and was standing meekly at the head +of the board. And also he had found time to decorate it. +</p> +<p> +“How do you like it?” he asked in a tone even +meeker than his attitude. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked, pulled off her glasses in order to +see better, looked again—and dropped down in a hopeless +heap in the opposite chair. She did not say anything—the +situation was beyond words. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you like it?” said Tom again sweetly. +</p> +<p> +“Like it!” said Winona, beginning to giggle. +</p> +<p> +Four half-barrel hoops had been wreathed in smilax, +and arched across the table at regular intervals, one +at each end and one between each two places. In the +middle of the table, completely hiding the olives, lay a +half-opened gridiron, also wound with smilax. It was +all very neatly done, for Tom was very neat-handed; +but the general effect was rather startling. +</p> +<p> +“It—why, it looks like somebody’s grave!” said +Winona protestingly. +</p> +<p> +Her tone was so stern that Puppums rose from beneath +the table and tried nervously to hide under the +sideboard, revealing as he went a decoration of smilax +round his neck, continued in a garland down his spine, +fastened at the tail. He did not seem to like it. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what it is!” said Tom complacently, as +Winona pounced on the abject dog and unwreathed +him. “Here’s the magazine I got it from. You said +to. All there was in this month’s copy was a page of +neat and inexpensive grave decorations. I copied the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +handsomest one in the bunch, ‘William R. Hicks; complete +cost of decoration three dollars and twenty cents.’ +That thing in the middle’s a Gates Ajar, or the nearest +I could get to it. It got a prize, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you suppose I want William R. Hicks’s grave, +or anybody’s grave, on the table when we’re having a +special hand-made dinner that I’ve spent most of the +afternoon on?” demanded his sister, laughing in spite +of her objections. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the row?” asked Billy cheerfully, appearing +in the door with an armful of roses and ferns. +</p> +<p> +“I followed Win’s directions about the table, and +she doesn’t seem to like it,” said Tom in a voice that +was intended to sound injured. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the gridiron for? A gentle reminder of +the Cannibal Isles? We don’t really know yet that +they’re missionaries!” said Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Sorry you don’t know a Gates Ajar when you see +it,” said Tom, grinning. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” said Billy decidedly. “That isn’t one. +Here are your roses, Winnie. You look like somebody’s +step-mother in all that train and glasses. Where +did you get them?” +</p> +<p> +“Winona!” called Louise, tearing downstairs, +“I’ve just remembered that Clay has been calling the +fritters ‘crullers’ ever since we made them. He’ll +send them in with the ice-cream if he isn’t told not to.” +</p> +<p> +She fled to the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +“Step-mother.... M’m,” said Tom with a +light of mischief in his eye; and followed Louise. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +</p> +<p> +“<em>Look</em> at the table!” Winona implored Billy. +</p> +<p> +Billy looked, took in the whole effect, and, as +Winona had done, sat down to laugh in comfort. +</p> +<p> +“It’s not so bad, after all,” he said comfortingly +when he was through. “Let’s take the bones out of +these green wicket-things, and lay the vines straight +across the table. They’ll get into the eats, likely, but we +can’t stop for that. Can’t you do anything with that +gridiron ajar? I should think the stuff on it would +look all right around a low bowl of roses.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe it would,” said Winona with renewed courage, +and set to work stripping it while Billy took the +supports from the smilax arches, and laid it flat, with +an occasional rose at intervals. They found a low, +wide bowl that, filled with roses, and wound with +smilax, made an excellent centerpiece. +</p> +<p> +Winona stepped back to view the general effect +with a sigh of satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“Billy! I’ll remember this afternoon of you to +the longest day I live!” she said. +</p> +<p> +“Billy! We want you!” called Louise from the +kitchen in a smothered voice. Winona would have +gone, too, for she was sure she heard giggles, but just +at this moment Clay came in, and his inability to understand +why he shouldn’t add a wide red cheese-cloth +sash to his white apron drove everything else out of +her head. By the time she had argued him out of it +the others were back, suspiciously grave. +</p> +<p> +“Not here yet!” sighed Louise. “I feel as if I +couldn’t wait to have them taste my stuffing! Let’s go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +into the living-room and sing, or go out back and play +tag, or something.” +</p> +<p> +“Dar dey is!” shouted Clay, running to the window. +</p> +<p> +The rest rushed, too, and looked over his woolly +head. +</p> +<p> +“A big one and a little one and a middle-sized wife, +like the Three Bears,” commented Winona. “They’re +coming in by the front way. Oh——” +</p> +<p> +That was because the fritter-sauce boiled over just +as the guests were ushered in. Both the girls forgot +their manners, and ran to the kitchen to rescue it. So +only Tom and Billy were in the living-room to be +introduced. +</p> +<p> +“My wife and daughter will be here presently,” +said Mr. Merriam, who had evidently forgotten that +Mrs. Merriam was expected to stay away till about +nine. “Tom, will you run up and tell your mother +and Winona that our friends are here?” +</p> +<p> +But even as he spoke Winona, a little breathless, +but trained, psyche-knotted and eye-glassed, appeared +in the doorway with Louise behind her. She came in +with an air of dignity which her mother could not have +bettered, and greeted her guests regally, in her excitement +forgetting to wait for an introduction. +</p> +<p> +Not so Tom. +</p> +<p> +“My step-mother, and my sister,” he whispered in +the ear of Mr. Driggs, the tall minister, who promptly +addressed Winona as “Mrs. Merriam.” Winona +thought he said “Miss,” and went on talking excitedly +about everything she could think of. Her father was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +deep in conversation with Mr. Donne, the other guest, +who was a classmate of his. Tom’s murmured “Mother +isn’t home yet—Winona’s managing things——” +scarcely stopped the flood of reminiscences. +</p> +<p> +“I never heard that your father had a second wife,” +remarked Mrs. Driggs to Louise, who had selected her +to talk to. +</p> +<p> +“It’s quite recent,” said Louise sadly; and Mrs. +Driggs did not ask any more questions. +</p> +<p> +Before things got more complicated Clay announced +dinner in an awestruck voice, and fled instead of holding +aside the portieres for the guests, as he had been +instructed. He had a good deal on his mind, for he +could not read very well yet, so they had had to sketch +each particular thing with a pencil, and pin the series of +pictures against the wall in their order as they were +to come. The pictures of the oysters and the sweet +potatoes were very much alike, and, as Clay confided to +Winona afterward, they worried him considerably. +</p> +<p> +Winona seated her guests with the same dignity +which had been hers ever since the train had; and led +the conversation in the ways it should go, nobly assisted +by Billy. It appeared Billy could talk like a grown-up +person of forty when he wanted to—which wasn’t often, +for Billy was a rather silent person ordinarily. Tom +and Louise were never, either of them, troubled by +shyness, and except that they seemed to laugh a little +more than the facts warranted they were just as usual. +</p> +<p> +Every course, from old Mrs. Johnson’s stolen bouillon +to the black coffee, came on in its proper place and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> +was eaten with enthusiasm. As the third course came +on without mishap, Winona began to relax, and by +the end of the dinner was quite at ease. Mr. Donne, +beside her, was liking his dinner so much that for +quite awhile Winona did not have to do any talking. +When he did talk it was about Ladies’ Aid Societies. +Now Mrs. Merriam was the President of the Ladies’ +Aid of her church, not to speak of various things that +she held minor offices in, and she was quite an authority. +Mr. Donne had been told this, and he thought +he was talking to Winona about something she was an +authority on. Winona was rather bewildered, for she +had never attended a Ladies’ Aid meeting in her life, +and like the inventor of the Purple Cow, till she was +grown up “never hoped to see one.” Nevertheless she +struck out valiantly, and was getting on fairly well +when Mrs. Driggs’s voice struck across the general +tide of talk. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Merriam,” she said, “I’m sorry to trouble +you, but I never can eat fish without a sprinkle of nutmeg. +Could you have a little grated on this delicious +bit for me?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes!” said Winona cordially. “Clay——!” +</p> +<p> +“Hit ain’ none, Miss Winnie,” interrupted the small +servant in a distressed whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Then go borrow one at Mrs. Lee’s, and hurry!” +whispered Winona. “Anything, so you only get it and +have it for Mrs. Driggs’s fish.” +</p> +<p> +Clay looked black for a moment. Then a comprehensive +grin dawned on his face. He trotted out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +with Mrs. Driggs’s fish, and brought it back again a +few moments later, liberally nutmegged and very much +to the lady’s taste. She ate it all and was happy. +</p> +<p> +“You seem to have no difficulty in keeping discipline +in your family and among your step-children, +Mrs. Merriam,” said Mr. Donne, almost directly after +the nutmeg episode. “You must seem more like a +sister than a mother to these tall young people.” +</p> +<p> +Winona was struck dumb with astonishment for a +moment. She looked across at Tom, who looked back +at her imploringly. She could see what had happened +out in the kitchen, that time that the three others had +been there alone and giggling. But this was no time to +have a scene. She braced herself and settled her glasses +more firmly, after one reproachful look at the three +culprits, whose faces were tense with apprehension. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” she replied quietly, talking, as Tom afterwards +said, like a seraph, “They do seem like that. +They are charming children, really.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Donne went on talking about it. Winona went +on replying with serene dignity. Even when he praised +the cook she took it serenely, and when the Ladies’ +Aid came in sight again she called to mind a visit from +the secretary at which she had been present, and quite +overwhelmed Mr. Donne with particulars. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Driggs had been a little quiet and hard to +talk to at the beginning of the meal, but Billy—Billy +the quiet, Billy the shy among his own kind—proved +to have the art of talking to grown people down to +a fine point. He not only kept his end up, but he steered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span> +nobly away from risky questions of relationship, and +other such perilous topics. +</p> +<p> +“It certainly gives you confidence to be a married +woman!” thought Winona, as she excused herself +and went to see about unpacking the ice-cream. Clay’s +performance so far had been perfect, but she did not +trust anybody but herself to get the cream successfully +out of the freezer, without getting salt into it. +</p> +<p> +“Where did you find that nutmeg, Clay?” she +asked curiously, as they arranged the cakes and ice-cream, +and put melted chocolate in a pitcher. +</p> +<p> +“Law, Miss Winnie,” said Clay, his smile nearly +coiling itself around his ears, “I done tole you hit +wasn’t none. I des took dis yere ole wooden button-hook +what hangs on a nail here, an’ grate a li’l bit of +it off. De minister’s wife she never know de diffunce.” +</p> +<p> +Winona caught her breath, but this was no time to +be overcome. The dessert had to be served. They were +all laughing at something Louise was saying, when she +came back. “I wonder if they would look so happy if +I told them about the nutmeg!” she couldn’t help thinking, +but it did not seem a very good thing to tell anyone, +just then—although it was too good to keep always. +The Camp Fire heard about it afterward. +</p> +<p> +Coffee, cheese, nuts and raisins, all appeared and +disappeared, and then Winona led her sated guests +out on the porch. She felt triumphantly virtuous. The +dinner had been good straight through, the talk had +gone smoothly, and the company seemed very happy and +pleased. She sat down by Mrs. Driggs and went on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span> +talking. She was going on prosperously when Mr. +Donne’s voice, from the other end of the porch, stopped +Mrs. Driggs’s account of her last maid. +</p> +<p> +“How long did you say you had been married, +Mrs. Merriam?” he inquired. +</p> +<p> +“Married?” echoed Winona desperately, trying to +think of a way out. +</p> +<p> +She was spared giving her answer. There was a +sound of footsteps and wheels within the house, and +Mrs. Merriam’s wheel-chair, propelled by Florence, +appeared in the doorway. +</p> +<p> +“I got back sooner than I thought I should, +Frances,” said the real Mrs. Merriam’s cheerful voice. +“Florence came over and told me that our friends +were here, so I had her wheel me back as soon as I’d had +my supper. We didn’t get home from the ride till a +little while ago, and I couldn’t get here for the meal.” +</p> +<p> +Winona did not wait to hear more. There was +a long open window at her back. One spring—and all +that remained to tell the tale of “young Mrs. Merriam” +was an overturned porch-chair and the distant sound of +a tearing garment. Up in her room, pulling down her +hair and slipping on her fresh middy-blouse and white +skirt, Winona heard the laughter, and knew the others +were being forgiven, and the whole tale told. +</p> +<p> +“Anyway!” she said to herself as she took off +her glasses, shook down her hair, washed her hot face +and prepared to walk downstairs and meet the family. +“Anyway, that couldn’t have been a better dinner if +I’d been married sixteen times!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</h2> +<p> +“This paying for deceased poultry,” said Tom, “is +getting monotonous. First there were those pedigreed +geese up on the river, and now Henry. I know Henry +never cost as much as the Janeways say he did.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we’re paying for all it cost to send him to +prep school and college,” suggested Louise, who was +staying over a day. “You forget that Henry was +intellectual.” +</p> +<p> +“He was tough,” agreed Tom, “if that’s any +sign! So was paying for him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tommy dear!” said Winona penitently. +“Henry was really my fault. I oughtn’t to let you +join in with me. I can pay for Henry very well alone.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I see you!” said Tom. “No, Winnie, +united we stand, divided we fall. I help pay for Henry—see +you later—just remembered how late it is.” +</p> +<p> +He bolted upstairs, leaving Winona, Louise and +Billy on the porch staring at each other. +</p> +<p> +“What’s struck Tom?” asked Billy. “First time +I ever knew him to be in a hurry.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I don’t know,” said Louise. “I thought +you two generally hunted together.” +</p> +<p> +“Not to-night,” said Billy. He vaulted the railing +casually, and walked out into the middle of the +lawn, where he could see Tom’s lighted window. +“He’s up there with all the lights on, walking the floor +as if he had something on his conscience, trying to tie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span> +all his neckties, one after another,” reported Billy. +“There—there goes the third one. He’s going to try +a red one now.” +</p> +<p> +“I know what it is,” said Winona, seeing a light. +“I’ve just remembered. He’s going to call on a girl. +He’s been going to for all week, and just got braced up +to it. He’s been wearing me out all day, asking me +for things to talk to her about. I suppose he’s trying +to decide on the necktie that matches his socks best.” +</p> +<p> +“But, great Scott, he’s been to see girls before!” +protested Billy. “I’ve been along when he’s been +seeing girls, and fellows, and even old gentlemen, and +he never took it so hard.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a very particular, grown-up call,” explained +Winona, “with a card-case and a cane, and everything +like that.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the cane for?” asked Billy, who had come +back to his seat on the porch. “Girl collecting them?” +</p> +<p> +“I think it must be for moral support,” put in +Louise. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t know he had one,” said Billy. “Where +did he get it?” +</p> +<p> +“Christmas present last year,” explained Winona +briefly. “Billy, don’t you wish we were all back at +Wampoag, having a moonlight swim?” +</p> +<p> +“I certainly do,” said Billy. “Not but that your +porch is nice, too,” he added with the politeness he +never seemed to forget. +</p> +<p> +Before they could lament camp life any further, +Tom rushed down the stairs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +</p> +<p> +“Winnie! Winnie! Where’s my blue scarf?” +he called from inside the front door. +</p> +<p> +“On Louise,” Winona called back promptly. +“Don’t you remember, you asked her if she didn’t +want to wear it with her sailor-suit?” +</p> +<p> +“Can I have it, Lou?” he asked, coming out. “I +wouldn’t ask you, but it just matches my hatband.” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly you can have it,” said Louise, with +chilly politeness, unfastening it and handing it to him. +</p> +<p> +“Good-evening, Mr. Merriam,” said Billy, grinning, +and rising in order to make a very low bow. “I +never thought you were this far on the way to being +a perfect lady, old boy—Mr. Merriam, I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“Going to call on an awfully correct girl,” said +Tom off-handedly. “I say, Lou, can I have that blue +class-pin of yours?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly,” said Louise again, still more coldly, +detaching it and holding it out. “Anything else you +think you’d like?” +</p> +<p> +“Not that I can think of,” said Tom, taking the +class-pin. “That’s a good old Lou,” he ended, adding +insult to injury. Then he sat down and pulled out his +mother’s celluloid memorandum tablets. He laid them +on his knee and looked at them earnestly, as he adjusted +the tie and the class-pin. +</p> +<p> +“Did you think of any more things for me to say +after I landed the California Exposition on her?” he +asked his sister. +</p> +<p> +Winona looked over at Billy to see if he saw the +funny side of it. There was no use looking at Louise, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span> +for in her present sulky frame of mind she would not +have seen anything funny in a whole joke-book. +</p> +<p> +“How would the next election do?” she suggested +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“M-m—all right,” said Tom, entering it. “That +won’t last forever, though, because all you can ever +do is guess which man will get it. I think you might +help a fellow out, Lou. You’re generally so clever.” +</p> +<p> +“Ask her how she likes her hats trimmed,” said +Louise scornfully, without turning around to him. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Tom, “that’s too silly a question.” +But he put it down just the same. “Let’s see. That +ought to carry me on till nearly nine.... Cæsar! +It’s time I went! Don’t mind if I go off and leave you, +do you Bill?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit!” said Billy calmly. “I’m all right. +But”—Billy’s eyes twinkled—“don’t you really think +you ought to wear your tuxedo, old fellow? Much +more correct, you know. I saw it in a Hints to Best +Dressers’ column awhile ago. It said that no true +gentleman was without evening clothes in the evening.” +</p> +<p> +Tom looked uneasy, but he was firm. +</p> +<p> +“I won’t get into that thing for anything less than +a dance or a hand-made clerical dinner,” he said, +thoughtlessly jamming his hat down over one ear the +way he usually wore it, then putting it straight with a +jerk. “Great Scott! I must hurry!” +</p> +<p> +“My ears and whiskers! The Duchess! Won’t I +catch it if I’m late!” quoted Louise scornfully from +Alice in Wonderland, as Tom dived down the steps. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span> +</p> +<p> +“What on earth’s got into Tom!” asked Billy. +“The idea of doing that because you like it!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Winona. “It is queer, isn’t +it?” +</p> +<p> +“Going off acting like he was all grown up!” +mused Billy, still lost in wonder at such a waste of a +perfectly good evening. +</p> +<p> +“I do wish you wouldn’t always say ‘like’ for +‘as if,’ Billy,” interrupted Louise sharply. “I hate it.” +</p> +<p> +“We always say it that way down home,” said +Billy. +</p> +<p> +“That’s no reason for your doing it here! Being +born in China doesn’t make it good manners for you +to eat with chopsticks,” said Louise, walking into the +house and slamming the screen-door behind her. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t Ah help yo’ find yo’ tempah, Louise?” +Billy called teasingly after her, with a purposely exaggerated +Southern accent. There was no answer. +</p> +<p> +“You’d be cross, too, if you were Louise,” Winona +defended her friend. “One of the things she stayed +down from camp over to-night for was that she and +Tom were going off to kodak some cloud effects for a +magazine prize. And she was going to try to get some +photographs that would count in Camp Fire work, too. +And Tom’s walked off, forgetting all about it.” +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t you remind him?” asked Billy +sensibly. +</p> +<p> +“Louise wouldn’t let me. She said she’d go +straight back if I did.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, she needn’t have taken it out on me,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> +Billy plaintively. “I didn’t break any engagements. +I suppose she has a red-haired temper.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Meanwhile Louise, after she banged the screen-door, +had gone straight through the house to the back. +Mrs. Merriam was in the living-room, which prevented +her crying there. She was very much hurt at Tom’s +forgetfulness. They had been chums for a long time, +and this particular expedition after cloud effects had +been something they had planned long before the +Scouts’ camp broke up. And now Tom had gone gayly +off, forgetting all about it. It really was horrid. +</p> +<p> +Crying on a bed is hot work in summer, so she +decided to go out back and do it. She sat on the porch, +put her arms on the back of a chair and began to cry. +</p> +<p> +But circumstances seemed to be against her. +Puppums, who had been asleep under a chair, got up, +yawned, sauntered across the porch, and sat down +by her. Then he proceeded to whine for her to turn +around, make a lap, and take him up into it. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, do stop!” said Louise indignantly, when +the whining had gone on steadily for some minutes. +But if you took any notice of Puppums he merely +argued that a little more work would get him what he +wanted, and went on begging. In the present instance +he answered Louise by lifting his nose further up in +the air, and howling, as if he wished to assure her +that he felt for her. +</p> +<p> +“You mean old dog!” said Louise, jumping up. +“I’ll settle you!” Puppums was very much pleased. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320'></a>320</span> +He had an optimistic disposition, and he thought it was +a game. He ran around and around the porch, finally, +when he began to see that Louise was in earnest, hiding +under the ice-chest, where he knew nobody could follow +him. Louise stopped short, and eyed the ice-box. +It occurred to her that she was thirsty. +</p> +<p> +“This is what you might call being guided,” said +she, and opening the lid, looked in. She found a bag +of lemons, a bunch of bananas, and she thought she +remembered where Winona kept the bottled cherries +and the cookies. She went into the kitchen and began +work, and in a very little while was on her way back +to the front porch with a tray, designed to show her +remorse for being cross, piled with cookies and fruit +lemonade. Mrs. Merriam, to whom she offered the +first glass, pronounced it very good indeed, and sent +her on her way. Puppums danced wildly about her, +with the idea that she was clearing a table, and he +might get bones. +</p> +<p> +Winona and Billy were still talking as placidly as +if Tom had not been wrestling with a formal call, and +Louise with a bad temper, for the last twenty minutes. +</p> +<p> +“Cookies—oh, and fruit lemonade! Louise, you +dear!” cried Winona, while Billy took the tray and +put it on a table. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you have some, Billy? I know you like +it, and—and I <em>do</em> like your Southern accent,” she +added in a rush. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Louise,” said Billy. “I like your +accent, too—and your fruit lemonade—very much.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321'></a>321</span> +</p> +<p> +They both laughed. “Let’s bury the hatchet,” he +added. “Louise, these certainly are fine cookies.” +</p> +<p> +The three were still sitting comfortably over their +refreshments, even Puppums crunching cakes contentedly +in a corner, when Tom hurried up the steps and +banged himself down in a chair. His hat was jammed +to one side in the old unceremonious fashion, his gloves +had vanished, and even his cane was nowhere to be seen. +</p> +<p> +“Have some,” said Billy tactfully before Tom +could say anything. They pushed the cakes toward +him, and poured him some lemonade in Winona’s glass, +and after he seemed less gloomy they got him to talk. +</p> +<p> +“Tell us all about it,” said Winona soothingly. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing to tell!” said Tom in something rather +like a growl. +</p> +<p> +“Have another cooky, and tell us all about it,” +repeated his sister in a persuasive voice. And after +awhile, when he had had some more cookies and +another glass of lemonade, he told them, gradually. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I sent in my card, of course,” he began. +“Asked for Miss Davis.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course!” said Winona; for her brother’s +usual custom was to call up from the sidewalk, “I’m +coming over to-night,” and then to walk unceremoniously +in whenever he thought of it, that evening. +</p> +<p> +“I did that all right, thank goodness!” said Tom. +“The maid kept me waiting about a year, with a copy +of Snowbound, and a Gems from Shakespeare, and +a pug-dog made out of plaster, to amuse me. The +Davises never seem to sit around in their rooms and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322'></a>322</span> +on their porches like other people. Just as I got to the +point of thinking I’d better go back home <em>Mrs.</em> Davis +walked in. I was so surprised at seeing her, instead +of Elsie, that I couldn’t think of a blessed thing to +say—so I fished up this!” +</p> +<p> +He jerked the tablets out of his pocket and threw +them to Winona. +</p> +<p> +“Keep ’em away from me,” he said. “I never want +to see the blessed things again. First thing I found was +‘Civil War.’ I’d picked out that for a start anyway—thought +it would be nice and general, and we had it in +History last term, so I knew a lot about it. You’d have +thought that would have lasted awhile, wouldn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Seeing that the real thing lasted four years or so, +I think it might have,” answered Billy. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it!” said Tom mournfully. “Mrs. +Davis turned out to have had a grand-uncle or something +in it, and she said it was a painful subject. I +don’t think she ever had a grand-uncle. I believe she +didn’t know anything about it, and just invented the +old fellow to get out of talking about it!” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, what suspicions!” said Winona, laughing. +“You certainly have nearly ruined your lovely disposition. +Never mind, Tommy, I sympathize with you. +What did you tackle next?” +</p> +<p> +“Tariff-reform, I think,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“What is tariff-reform?” asked Winona. “I +never could understand it exactly.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t ask me to say it all over again!” begged +Tom. “I was getting anxious by that time for fear I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323'></a>323</span> +wouldn’t have subjects enough left to use on Elsie. +You know she isn’t much of a talker. But I had to say +something, and Mrs. Davis didn’t, and I couldn’t think +of anything but this foolish book. Mrs. Davis didn’t +seem to care much about tariff-reform, either, so I gave +that up and looked at the list again, and chose +‘Weather.’ She did warm up a little at that. But +the best weather won’t last forever, and you could just +hear the silence bump every little while. +</p> +<p> +“Then I got desperate, and used up Politics and +Canoeing and the California Fair, and all the rest. +Folks, I finished off every last thing I was going to +talk to Elsie about, before she ever appeared! Except +about trimming hats—that seemed such a foolish thing +to ask a woman that old about.” +</p> +<p> +“They discussed Measles and Mice, and Music, and +everything else that began with an M,” quoted Louise +from her favorite Alice in Wonderland. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t mind her,” said Billy as soberly as he could. +“Just go on. Did Elsie Davis ever come down at all?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Tom, “she did. Just as I finished my +last subject, if you please! She seemed to be dressed +for a party, but she said she wasn’t. She sat down at +the other end of the room, and tried to see if she couldn’t +keep as still as her mother. Mrs. Davis stayed right +there, too, and smiled like an alligator—and there was +I without an idea in my head or on the memorandum!” +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t they even show you the photograph +album?” inquired Louise, forgetting to be offended. +</p> +<p> +“They wouldn’t talk, I tell you!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324'></a>324</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, what <em>did</em> you do?” asked Louise. +</p> +<p> +Tom grinned a little, shamefacedly. +</p> +<p> +“Well—I simply yanked out that old tablet, and +began at Civil War again. I said ‘As I was just saying +to your mother!’ and I gave her every subject over!” +</p> +<p> +His hearers howled, and after a minute Tom himself +joined in. “Did it work better this time?” asked +Winona at last, wiping her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Not a work,” said Tom cheerfully, reaching for +the last cooky. “That is, all but the hat one. That was +clever of you, Lou. She got almost human over that, +and began to talk about how many engagements she +had—had to break half of them. And I said ‘I don’t +believe in breaking dates,’ and suddenly I remembered +the one with you to take the pictures—and I left then +and there, like a streak of lightning. I left my cane—I +don’t care—she can have it to remember me by. +Louise, I owe you an apology the size of the house. +Why didn’t you remind me about those snapshots?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s not too late,” said Louise amiably. “The +moon’s just about right, now.” +</p> +<p> +Tom went into the house after the cameras, sending +his hat flying up to the hat-tree, followed by his gloves. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s go, too,” said Billy. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Winona. She leaned back, and +laughed, as they waited for the others to come out. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe Tom will try any more formal calls +till he’s eighteen, anyway,” she remarked. +</p> +<p> +“It seems a pity, though,” said Billy, getting up. +“He wasted a perfectly good cane!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325'></a>325</span>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</h2> +<p> +Louise went back to camp next day, and Winona +went on with her work at home. Louise had left all +sorts of presents and messages from the girls, and +taken a great many from Winona away with her. +Louise’s visit cheered Winona up very much. There +was only one hard thing about it—the news Louise had +brought that the girls had extended the time of their +stay again. The plan now was to stay in Camp Karonya +till the fourteenth of September. School opened on the +fifteenth. It seemed a long time to wait to see her +friends again—for the doctor was certain that her +mother would not be able to bear her weight on the +injured ankle for a month to come. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Winona wrote to the girls, and her +mother and Florence kept track, in what Winona considered +a very wild way, of the things she did that +should entitle her to honors. The honor-list and a +sheet of blanks lived under her mother’s pillow, Winona +was sure. If it gave her mother pleasure she was glad +to have her do it; but it occurred to Winona the day +after Louise left that it mightn’t be a bad scheme to collect +a few honors herself, things that she was sure +would count. Also she wanted some fun, and she had +found that the acquiring of honors usually led to it. So +Winona proceeded to “start something.” +</p> +<p> +To begin with, next door lived Nataly Lee. Winona +went over there the very afternoon of the day Louise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326'></a>326</span> +left, and spent the most persuasive three hours of her +life, explaining to Nataly that they, as the only two +Camp Fire Girls in town, ought to start some good times +for other people, who, not being Camp Fire Girls, +probably didn’t know how. And before she went back +to get supper she had persuaded Nataly she was right. +</p> +<p> +Next day she and Nataly, cheerful and enthusiastic, +made a canvass of the girls in their classes who were +staying home. Winona had rather gone on the principle +that nearly everyone was off somewhere else, but +she found it wasn’t so at all. There were six girls beside +herself and Nataly who were ready and willing +to join a Porch Club that was to meet once a week, +and have a picnic one week and a party the next. +</p> +<p> +Winona and Tom and Billy, with Nataly, even, +helping once in a while, spent some time in furnishing +the Merriam porch with chairs and hammocks and +screens and lanterns. Then the boys went forth and +invited their own friends with a lavish hand. The +first porch party was a grand success, although there +were about three boys to one girl. But that righted +itself next time, which was three days later, for the +Porch Club made an unanimous and prompt decision +that it wanted to meet twice a week. And more girls +wanted to join. So, although they were not like her +own old comrades, Winona found that she was making +friends whom she would never have had at all, if it had +not been that she was cut off from her own set of girls, +still having good times at Camp Karonya. As for +Nataly, she was a marvellously different person. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327'></a>327</span> +work of management, of social entertaining, proved to +be exactly what she could do best. And having to +teach things to others (for the Porch Club added an +afternoon session, devoted to hand-craft work and reading +aloud), made her find that she could do things very +well here that she hadn’t liked doing in camp at all! +As for Winona, she let Nataly run things as much as +she wanted to. She herself was just what she had +always been, Ray of Light, holding the girls and boys +together by her brightness and her fondness for them. +She was the centre of things, after all. Not that she +realized it, particularly; she only thought how queer +it was that there were so many nice, friendly people +in the world, willing to do nice things and have nice +times if you only suggested it. And there are, too. +</p> +<p> +“And, Helen and Louise dear,” Winona wrote to +her own two best friends back at Camp Karonya. +“Some of the girls in our classes that we scarcely +knew, and thought were quiet and stupid, are as nice +and bright and funny as ever they can be, and ever so +Camp Firey! I believe we can organize another Camp +Fire this fall. And I have my housework arranged so +that I have two hours in the morning, and most of my +afternoon and evening, to do what I please with. So +I have a gorgeous time working for honors. It’s a +scheme I shan’t tell you about till it’s all worked out +and over with, but I think it’s going to work all right. +Florence suggested it, bless her heart. Love to the +whole Camp Fire, and ask them to take a hike for me!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328'></a>328</span> +</p> +<p> +Winona’s supplementary plan for honor-winning +had been suggested to her this way: +</p> +<p> +One day she was on the back porch, mending, and +Florence had four bosom friends out in the back garden, +making a most fearful racket. Mrs. Merriam had +a headache, and Winona knew that in a little while +the headache would be worse, or that she would have +to go and send Florence’s friends home, which meant +hurting that independent young person’s feelings. +</p> +<p> +“Florence,” called Winona, “wouldn’t you and +the other girls like me to come down to the end of the +garden and tell you fairy-stories?” +</p> +<p> +The little girls seemed to very much want to. So +Winona took her mending and her rocker, and they +sat down in the shelter of a big tree. Winona told them +stories till it was time for her to go in and see about +supper. By then her mother’s headache was over. But +after supper Florence came up to Winona, and said, +“The girls want to ask something. They want to know +if you won’t tell them stories other times, too!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what a lovely idea!” said Winona. “Of +course I will!” +</p> +<p> +So to the Porch Club and the housekeeping Winona +added two hours every other day, telling stories to +Florence and her small friends. She felt rather shy +over it at first, but gradually it began to be more and +more easy. When the fairy-tales ran low she went +to the library and hunted out the Robin Hood and +Arthur legends, and even history stories once in awhile. +And one day when she was rummaging the card catalogue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329'></a>329</span> +for more stories about King Arthur she found +out that the Malory book was only a very little of what +there was to be told. Everything seemed to lead somewhere +else. So the story-hours kept to King Arthur, +except for one fairy afternoon a week, for the rest of +the month, and Winona learned a good deal about him +that she would never have found out by herself. +</p> +<p> +After one or two meetings, sewing as she talked, +she began to show the children a little about darning, +too. They brought stockings after that, and kept +quieter, she found, when they were working as well as +she. The most surprising thing of all to her was that +she had time enough for everything. The story-hours +took care of all the household mending that her mother +did not do; the Porch Club, which met at different +houses in rotation, was no trouble at all, merely a +good-times affair. The housekeeping was running +smoothly, and Winona got time for letter-writing and +walks with the boys, and even practice on the piano. +There were lots of places where she and Nataly and +Tom and Billy could go trolley riding on hot evenings, +and there were always boys and girls running in and +out, asking her to go places and do things. Winona +discovered, as others have before her, that you can have +a very good time by staying home in the summer. +</p> +<p> +One night, toward the last of August, her mother +asked her a question. +</p> +<p> +“How would you like to go back to camp to celebrate +your birthday, dear?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +Now Winona’s birthday, her fifteenth, was on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330'></a>330</span> +eleventh of September, just two days before the girls +were coming back. +</p> +<p> +“I would, very much,” she said, “but do you think +you will be able to spare me?” +</p> +<p> +“I am quite sure of it,” said her mother. “Indeed, +I might be able to take charge of the house again by +next week, if my ankle improves as it is doing now.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Winona, “I won’t take the risk. +Besides, I couldn’t leave the story-hour children, and +the Porch Club has to have some things planned for it +that I think I’d better help with. But if I can go up +there over my birthday it will be lovely.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll have to get somebody else to tell the stories +while you’re gone, then,” said Florence. “I don’t want +my story-hour broken up!” +</p> +<p> +“By all means, don’t break up Florence’s private +story-hour!” said Tom. “Why don’t you do the +story-telling yourself, Floss?” +</p> +<p> +But, “That’s true, Florence,” said Winona. “I +think I can find one of the girls in the Porch Club who +will do it. You see, mother dear, I’ll need to get all the +loose ends up out of the way if I go back even for +three days!” +</p> +<p> +But all the loose ends tied themselves up neatly. +Ellen Marks, one of the nicest of the Porch Club girls, +promised to tell the stories for the two days Winona +would miss. Nataly could look after things elsewhere, +and by the eleventh Mrs. Merriam was nearly as well as +ever. So the morning of that day saw Winona on her +way back to Camp Karonya, with joy in her heart, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331'></a>331</span> +her ceremonial costume over her arm, in a special bag. +</p> +<p> +The whole crowd of girls rushed out to meet her, +and sang a cheer from the time her motor-boat was +in sight till she landed. They surrounded her, and carried +her into camp, where supper was nearly ready. +</p> +<p> +It seemed very good to be back. The pine needles +smelled as woodsily as ever, and the long wooden table +looked very homelike, with its brown, chattering girls +surrounding it, all trying to tell her everything at once. +As soon as supper was over Helen and Louise swept +her off to her old tent. +</p> +<p> +“Hurry,” said Helen. “Get into your ceremonial +costume, honey. Heap big Council Fire to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Council Fire?” said Winona in surprise. “Why, +is it the night for it?” +</p> +<p> +“This is an extra-special,” explained Helen hastily. +“Here, Win, let me help you.” +</p> +<p> +She began to unfasten Winona’s travelling suit. +</p> +<p> +“You have a lot more beads than you had,” Winona +observed a little wistfully, as Helen took her own +gown down from the wall and began to put it on. +</p> +<p> +Helen laughed as she slung the long string of +colored honor-beads around her neck. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe you’ll catch up,” she remarked carelessly. +“You’ll doubtless get an honor or so to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Winona. “I ought to get a bead +or two for home-craft, and I did some story-hour work, +too.” +</p> +<p> +“As if that was all you did!” said Helen indignantly; +and stopped herself short. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332'></a>332</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hurry up, girls!” said Louise, sticking her bead-banded +head into the tent. “Time to begin. Hear the +drum!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the nice old drum!” cried Winona happily, +as she heard its well-remembered monotonous sound +in the distance. The three girls linked arms, and hurried +to the council hill. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, but it’s good to be back!” said Winona for +the third or fourth time, as she sank into her place in +the circle around the first place. She listened dreamily +as the ceremony of fire-lighting and all the rest went +forward. Things had been happening, it appeared. +The reports were given one by one. Winona listened +on, and Hike the Camp Cat trotted noiselessly over the +ground and curled himself into Winona’s lap. Even +he remembered her. She stroked him and listened. +</p> +<p> +Helen, they told, had managed to coax an old farmer +down the road, the identical one they didn’t buy the +music-box of, to stop setting traps that hurt rabbits. +Louise had, after many hoppings about in solitude, +actually managed to master five folk-dances. Adelaide +and little Frances had made an emergency dash down +the river to get the doctor, when one of the other little +girls had fallen from a tree and broken her wrist. +There were other things as thrilling. +</p> +<p> +“And all I did was stay home!” thought Winona +as the tales went on, and the beads were awarded. +Then she sat up and began to listen more closely, for +Mrs. Bryan, Opeechee herself, was rising to give this +report, and that was something sure to be special and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333'></a>333</span> +worth while. When Opeechee related what a girl had +done it was an honor worth having. +</p> +<p> +“You have all done well, and deserved the honors +you have been awarded on this, our final Council in the +open,” began the Guardian. “Here, together in the +woods, it has been easy to follow the law of the fire. +We have found it so, I know. +</p> +<p> +“But now I want to tell you about a watcher of +the Camp Fire who has been following the law without +any of the helps we have. She gave up the camp and +its good times, and went back to assume the duties of a +woman—the tending of the real Fire of home. She +had charge of the household. She kept a family of four +beside herself, including an invalid mother, comfortable, +well taken care of and happy, for one month. +She made a pleasure out of her duties, and showed +others how. Besides this, she collected girls who had +not much social life and gave it to them. She led them +for a month, three times a week. She told children +stories and taught them sewing every other day for a +month. And through it all she was happy, and made +light for others wherever she went. She has carried the +Torch of happiness and health and work and love, and +passed it on undimmed to others. Winona, the Flashing +Ray of Light, is just fifteen to-night. That is the +earliest age at which anyone can be made a Torch-bearer—but +I think she deserves the rank, Sisters of +the Camp Fire. What do you say?” +</p> +<p> +Before the girls could answer Winona was on her +feet with the kitten in her arms, scarlet and protesting. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334'></a>334</span> +</p> +<p> +“But I didn’t do all those wonderful things, +Opeechee!” she cried. “I just did what there was to +do. I like to plan things and have people have good +times. I just wanted to get as good a time out of it +all as I could. And I don’t believe I have enough honor +beads to be a Torch-bearer.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan paid her protest very little attention. +</p> +<p> +“What do you say, Sisters of the Camp Fire?” +</p> +<p> +The girls burst out into cheering. +</p> +<p> +“Winona, Flashing Ray of Light, is to take the +rank of Torch-bearer to-day,” repeated Mrs. Bryan +inexorably. “Rise, Winona.” +</p> +<p> +And as Winona stood up again (she had sat down +hastily after her first objection) Mrs. Bryan repeated +the honors she had won, and that her mother and Florence +had kept track of so faithfully. She had expected +the honor for story-telling, but the one for marketing—and +the one for folk-songs—and—why, that Alice +Brown pantomime had meant an honor bead! So had +bringing in and arranging her mother’s invalid-tray, +and the Porch Club and the story-hour had given +her a double right to the Torch-bearer rank, which +requires leadership of a group. Then, of course, the +wood-craft honors she had won before she went home—she +had known about those. But to think that everything, +even that hilarious ten-course dinner she and +Louise had planned, had been good for a bead! Winona +had far more than the fifteen required honors for the +highest rank of the Camp Fire. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335'></a>335</span> +</p> +<p> +“Repeat the Torch-bearer’s Desire, Winona,” said +Mrs. Bryan, and Winona, half in a dream, said, +</p> +<p> + The light which has been given me<br /> + I desire to pass undimmed to others.<br /> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Bryan stepped forward, and threw a string +of beads over her head. She had not been in Camp +till now, and so the beads had not come one by one as +they generally did. She fastened the pin on Winona’s +breast, and stepped back, while the girls sang a tempestuous +cheer. +</p> +<p> +Winona sat down on the grass, still bewildered. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +“Well, how does it feel to be a Torch-bearer—the +only one in Camp?” asked Helen late that night, as +the girls were undressing together. +</p> +<p> +“Wonderful—only I don’t believe it, yet!” said +Winona. “Think of all those honors that I never even +dreamed I was getting—and to think I was having +such fun getting them, too! It seems as if I ought to +have worked so hard it was uncomfortable, somehow, +to deserve them.” +</p> +<p> +“It was dreadfully hard to keep the surprise a +secret, sometimes,” said Helen. “When your letters +were a wee little bit lonesome, sometimes, we had hard +work keeping Louise from telling. Oh, Winona, all +the girls are so glad!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad, too,” said Winona soberly. “And oh, +Helen, I <em>am</em> going to keep on carrying the torch, too—as +high as ever I can!” +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Winona of the Camp Fire, by Margaret Widdemer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINONA OF THE CAMP FIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 37207-h.htm or 37207-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/0/37207/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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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