THE SOUP THAT FAILED
Almost the sole topic of discussion at Camp Wau-Wau on the following day
was the train of exciting events of the previous evening. There were, too,
murmurs of disapproval at the trick that Harriet Burrell and Jane McCarthy
had played on the girls. Some of the Camp Girls were ashamed that they had
shown such cowardice, others were angry at the Meadow-Brook Girls for
making them appear at a disadvantage. Among the latter were Patricia and
Cora. These two were talking it over when Harriet in passing, bade them a
pleasant good morning.
"Now look at her superior smile, will you?" jeered Patricia. "I just would
like to take her down a notch or two, and I will before I leave this
camp."
"How?" asked Cora reflectively.
"I don't know. I'll catch her somehow and make a laughing stock of her
before the rest of the girls."
"Patricia, have you forgotten the bath towel--have you forgotten what she
knows about us?"
"No, I haven't," answered Patricia Scott, with a toss of her head.
"And she hasn't said a word to any one about it."
"You don't know that. Have you noticed that that Miss Elting looks at us
very queerly when she passes us? She is very cold and distant, too, just
as though she knew something about us. You mark my words, that
Meadow-Brook Girl has told her all about finding the towel, but if it gets
to the Chief Guardian I know how I can turn the tables on that impudent
Harriet Burrell."
"How?"
"In the easiest way you can imagine. I'll say that Harriet never has liked
me and that she had taken my towel and hidden it purposely, just to
produce it at the right time and accuse me of having been implicated in
the hazing."
"But it wasn't your towel," protested Cora. "It was mine."
"That's all right. That will make it all the better. She will say it was
your towel and I will say it was mine. Don't you see how that will mix the
affair up? You must stand by me if it comes to that."
"Of course," answered Cora Kidder, but in rather a weak voice. She was not
a bad girl at heart, but she was easily influenced; it was not difficult
to persuade her to look at any matter with other eyes than her own. It was
the bad influence of Patricia Scott that already had led Cora so far into
mischief, and that gave promise of leading her still farther. Patricia, on
the other hand, possessed a jealous and revengeful disposition. It had
caused her trouble in her own home and lost her many friends in her home
town. She had been sent to the camp in the hope that the wholesome life in
the woods might give her a new point of view, and that the association
with the Camp Girls might make a better girl of her. Thus far the desired
result had not been attained, though she had managed to hide her
shortcomings from Mrs. Livingston and the guardians. At times Mrs.
Livingston, close observer that she was, had wondered as to the girl's
real character, but Patricia's sweet smile, easily assumed to fit the
occasion, had on each occasion disarmed the Chief Guardian.
"You must pretend to be very indignant if ever you are called to account,
and I will pretend to be indignant, too. I almost hope she does complain
of us, and she will, too. She is a sneak."
"I don't hope she'll complain of us," cried Cora in alarm. "I know I
should die of mortification."
"You haven't any courage, Cora Kidder," declared Patricia scornfully. "I
see I shall have to look out for both of us, and----"
"No, no," protested Cora. "Tell me what you want me to do. I will do it. I
don't want to be found out for what I already have done and be sent home.
What would I do? Oh, what would I do?"
Patricia gave her a withering glance.
"What you need is backbone. You haven't any more courage than a two-year
old child. What ails you?"
"You say I haven't any courage," answered Cora hotly. "I'll show you
whether I have or not. What do you want me to do?" she demanded,
straightening up to her full height and looking Patricia squarely in the
eyes.
"That's the way to talk, dear," nodded Patricia. "Let's take a walk.
Forget the mean things I just said to you, but I had to do it to put some
spunk into you."
"There comes that Margery girl," exclaimed Cora.
"Don't mind her. She wouldn't see the side of a house if it were set up
right in front of her. I can't say as much for that perfectly impossible
Grace Thompson. She is as sharp as she can be, and she isn't afraid to
speak right out before everybody. Didn't you see how she held her ground
last night when most of the others ran away."
"Oh, she was in the secret. She knew all about it," answered Cora Kidder.
"That's where you make a mistake. She didn't. Didn't you see how
frightened she was at first?"
Cora shook her head.
"You must keep your eyes open," advised Patricia. "You've gone too far to
take any chances; that is, any more than you have to take. She was going
to run, then she held herself steady by sheer grit. I don't like her, I
don't like any of them, but I know real courage when I see it and she
showed it last night."
"Harriet knew, though?"
"Oh, yes; she was in the game. Of course she was. It was a shame. She
ought to be put out of the camp. She will be. There isn't room here for
her and me."
Patricia linked an arm in that of Cora's, walking away to a spot where
they might be more by themselves. There were too many girls passing back
and forth now to make prudent a discussion such as was theirs.
A good part of the afternoon found Harriet Burrell in the kitchen of the
cook tent. Harriet was trying to win an "honor" by making soup. By making
five standard soups consecutively she would win another bead, provided
the soups were favorably received by the Camp Wau-Wau Girls.
Harriet's first day in the kitchen resulted in more confusion than the
kitchen had known that season. It seemed that everything was misplaced.
The dinner was late that night, but the soup was excellent. The other
girls in the kitchen made no complaint about the confusion, which they
believed to be due to carelessness on Harriet's part, because the
misplaced articles and various ingredients scattered about were those
which she had used in her work.
The next day conditions were no different. Patricia, who was preparing
salads for an "honor" finally threw up her hands in disgust. She declared
she could stand it no longer and if some of the girls didn't remove
Harriet from the kitchen, she, Patricia would have to get out herself.
Somehow this word reached Mrs. Livingston, with the result that Patricia
herself was asked to drop her "honor" work in the kitchen for the present.
It was a blow to Patricia Scott. She had not looked for this result, and
though she had not made the complaint in person, her criticism of Harriet
had been a boomerang that had returned and hit Patricia. This made the
girl even more bitter against Harriet than before.
The following two days brought with them less friction in the kitchen.
Harriet Burrell's soups delighted the girls and the guardians; many were
the compliments bestowed upon the blushing Harriet.
It was now the fifth day of Harriet's soup-making; the last in the test
for the "honor." It seemed a foregone conclusion that the young woman had
won her bead for this achievement in cookery. Harriet naturally felt
gratified. It meant something to win even one bead in the Camp Girls'
Association as every member of the organization had soon come to know. No
girl ever had won all of the "honors" these "honors" covering so many
fields of achievement as to make this well-nigh impossible.
"Well, Miss Burrell," smiled the Chief Guardian that evening after they
had sat down to the tables and grace had been said. "I suppose you will be
entitled to wear a new bead to-morrow."
"I hope so, Mrs. Livingston," answered Harriet with a blush.
"Wait till you try the thoup," suggested Tommy.
"I agree with you," said Hazel.
"Your friends do not seem to have the same confidence in your soup making
that the rest of us feel," smiled Miss Partridge.
"Perhaps that is because they know my shortcomings better than you do,
Miss Partridge," replied Harriet.
A close observer might have seen Patricia and Cora exchange meaning
glances.
There was a lively chattering along the tables while the girls were
waiting for the serving of the first course, the soup. This was brought to
the table in great tureens, one for each table, the guardian who sat at
the head of the table serving the soup which was passed along to the other
end by the girls themselves. In this case it was Miss Elting who was doing
the serving at the table at which the Meadow-Brook Girls were seated.
"This consommé certainly looks delicious," she said with a smile.
"From the smell I should say it must be," declared Jane McCarthy. "I know
I could die eating that soup."
"Be careful," warned a voice. "You may."
"I say girls, let's wait till Harriet samples it," suggested Hazel. "It is
her last chance at the soup. There's no telling what she might do to us."
"Yeth, that ith right," nodded Grace. "No poithon cup for uth."
"Taste it, darlin'," urged Jane.
Harriet with a good natured smile dipped her spoon in daintily, carrying
some of the steaming soup to her lips. She tasted the consommé gingerly,
then took another spoonful, and hurriedly put the spoon back in the dish.
A horrified expression appeared on the face of the Meadow-Brook girl.
"There! What did I tell you?" cried Margery.
"What is the trouble?" asked Miss Partridge.
"Oh-h-h!" gasped Harriet, making a desperate effort to control herself.
A girl on the other side of the table from Miss Burrell, sampled the soup,
then hastily dropped her spoon. Margery followed suit a moment later.
"How is it?" questioned Hazel.
"Please don't ask me," declared Margery gloomily.
Miss Elting made a wry face when she tasted the consommé, but said
nothing. Some went on eating, others laid down their spoons and leaned
back in their chairs. Tommy was the first to break the silence that had
settled over the table.
"There ith thomething the matter with thith thoup," she declared in a loud
voice.
"That's what I say," answered a voice.
"And I, and I, and I," cried other voices.
"Yes, I agree with you," answered Miss Partridge gravely. "Harriet what
did you put in the soup?"
"The usual ingredients."
Mrs. Livingston at this juncture sampled the soup. Her face darkened. She
swallowed a spoonful, then quickly laid the spoon on the soup plate.
Harriet had shrunk back into her chair. A deep flush rose to her face. To
cover her confusion she essayed to take some more soup, but the effort was
a failure. She simply could not eat the consommé.
"It tathteth to me like thoap," declared Tommy.
"I believe it is soap," spoke up Patricia Scott. "How perfectly
frightful!"
"I am afraid, Miss Burrell," said Mrs. Livingston, "that you have lost the
'honor' for this season. This consommé seems to be a dismal failure. This
of course does not preclude you from taking up some other branch of
cookery and winning an 'honor'."
Harriet was on the verge of tears, but she held herself under good
control. Her humiliation was apparent only in her flaming cheeks and
almost imperceptible beads of perspiration that stood out on her forehead.
"This is a matter that must be looked into, Harriet," said the Chief
Guardian. "Young ladies, eat no more of the soup. There is something
seriously wrong with it. It tastes like soap to me, too; I am free to
admit that. I hope no one has been playing pranks," fixing a keen glance
on Harriet's face.
"Oh, Mrs. Livingston," cried Harriet, shocked almost beyond words.
"I am not accusing you of any such thing, my dear," explained the Chief
Guardian. "You would be unlikely to play pranks and lose your 'honor'
mark. The guardians will please accompany me to the kitchen. Young ladies,
you will proceed with your dinner. Upon second thought, Miss Partridge and
Miss Elting will accompany me. The other guardians may remain here."
Mrs. Livingston rose, as did the two teachers whom she had named. A heavy
silence settled over the cook tent after the three women had disappeared
into the kitchen, a small tent at the rear of the cook tent. They were
gone for some time. Finally, Mrs. Livingston and Miss Partridge returned.
Miss Elting was not with them. The Chief Guardian's face wore an
expression of sternness such as none of the girls ever had observed there
before.
Harriet appeared wholly to have lost her appetite. She was making a brave
effort to eat, but the food choked her. The meal was finished in silence.
At the conclusion of the meal, Mrs. Livingston rose and requested the
girls to come to order.
"Young ladies," she began, "a most serious thing has occurred. I make no
accusations. Miss Burrell, where is the key to your supply box?"
"I hung it on a nail on the outside of the tent pole just behind my work
table, Mrs. Livingston."
The Chief Guardian turned to Miss Partridge.
"Do you mind bringing Miss Burrell's key and box, Miss Partridge?" she
asked. The young guardian rose promptly and left the tent. A few moments
later, she returned bearing a galvanized box, slightly larger than a
baking powder case. This she placed on the table before the Chief
Guardian, laying a key beside it. Harriet saw that the box was hers, but
she did not know why it had been brought to the tent.
Mrs. Livingston unlocked the supply box, then tilting it so that the light
from the hanging lamp nearby shone into the box, she peered in. Harriet
saw her grope in the box, saw her withdraw some small object and examine
it in the palm of her hand amid a breathless silence. Then the Chief
Guardian raised her eyes, fixing them on Harriet Burrell with an
inquiring, sorrowful gaze.