"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'"
Bessie Carroll drew a long breath as she looked about, and said
earnestly, "Miss Laura, I never, never saw any place so dear! I didn't
think there could be such a pretty room."
Laura bent and kissed the earnest little face. "I am glad you like it so
much, dear," she said. "I like it too. You remember the very first
words of our Camp Fire law--'Seek beauty'? I thought of that when I was
furnishing this. It is our Camp Fire room, girls, and I hope we shall
have many happy times together here."
"I guess they couldn't help being happy times in a room like this--and
with you," returned Bessie with her shy smile, which remark was promptly
approved by the other girls--except Olga, who said nothing.
"You look as glum as that old barn owl at the camp, Olga," Louise
Johnson told her under cover of the gay clamour of talk that followed.
"For heaven's sake, do cheer up a bit. That face of yours is enough to
curdle the milk of human kindness."
Olga's only response was a black scowl and a savage glance, at which
Louise retreated with a shrug of her shoulders and an exasperating wink
and giggle.
Within half an hour all the girls were there except Elizabeth. Olga,
glooming in a corner, thought of Elizabeth crawling off alone to her
room to cry. Torture would not have wrung tears from Olga's great black
eyes, and she would have seen them unmoved in the eyes of any other
girl; but Elizabeth--that was another thing. She glanced scornfully at
the others laughing and chattering around Miss Laura, and vowed that she
would never come to another of the meetings unless Elizabeth could come
too. If Miss Laura, after all her talk, couldn't do something to help
Elizabeth----But Miss Laura was standing before her now with a box of
matches in her hand.
"I want you to light our fire to-night, Olga," she said gently.
Ungraciously enough, Olga touched a match to the splinters of resinous
pine on the hearth, and as the fire flashed into brightness, Miss
Laura, turning out the electric lights, said, "I love the fire, but I
love the candles almost as much; so at our meetings here, we will have
both." The girls were standing now in a circle broken only by the fire.
Miss Laura set the three candlesticks with the bayberry candles on the
floor in the centre of the circle and motioned the girls to sit down.
Lightly they dropped to the floor, and Laura, touching a splinter to the
fire, handed it to Frances Chapin, a grave studious High School girl who
had not been at the camp. Rising on one knee, Frances repeated slowly,
"'I light the light of Work, for Wohelo means work,'" and lighting the
candle, she added,
"'Wohelo means work.
We glorify work, because through work we are free.
We work to win, to conquer, to be masters. We work
for the joy of the working and because we are free.
Wohelo means work.'"
As Frances stepped back into the circle, Laura beckoned to Mary
Hastings, the strongest, healthiest girl of them all, who, coming
forward, chanted slowly in her deep rich voice,
"'I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health!'"
Lighting the candle, she went on,
"'Wohelo means health.
We hold on to health, because through health we serve
and are happy.
In caring for the health and beauty of our persons we
are caring for the very shrine of the Great Spirit.
Wohelo means health.'"
As Mary went back to her place Laura laid her hand on the shoulder of
Bessie Carroll, who was next her. With a glance of pleased surprise
Bessie took the third taper and in her low gentle voice repeated,
"'I light the light of Love, for Wohelo means love.'"
The room was very still as she lighted the third candle, saying,
"'Wohelo means love.
We love love, for love is life, and light and joy and
sweetness.
And love is comradeship and motherhood, and fatherhood and all
dear kinship.
Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.
Wohelo means love.'"
As she spoke the last words a strain of music, so low that it was barely
audible, breathed through the room, then deepened into one clear note,
and instantly the wohelo cheer rose in a joyful chorus.
After the roll-call and reports of the last meeting there was no more
ceremony. Miss Laura had set the three candles back on the mantelpiece,
where they burned steadily, sending out a faint spicy odor that mingled
with the pleasant fragrance of the firs. The fire snapped and sang and
blazed merrily, and Laura dropped down on the floor in front of it,
gathering the girls closer about her.
"To-night," she began, "I want to hear about your good times--the 'fun'
that every girl wants and needs. Tell me, what do you enjoy most?"
"Moving pictures," shouted Eva Bicknell, a little bundle-wrapper of
fifteen.
"Dances," cried another girl.
"O yes, dances," echoed pretty Annie Pearson, her eyes shining.
"I like the roller skating at the Arcade," another declared.
"The gym and swimming pool and tennis." That was Mary Hastings.
"Hear her, will ye?" Eva Bicknell muttered. "Great chance _we_ have for
tennis and gym.!"
"You could have them at the Y.W.C.A. That's where I go for them when you
go to your dances and picture shows," retorted Mary.
"But the picture shows is great fun, 'specially when the boys take ye
in," the other flung back.
There was a laugh at that, and the little bundle-wrapper added, "an'
finish up with a promenade on the avenue in the 'lectric lights."
Laura's heart sank at these frank expressions of opinion. What had she
to offer that would offset picture shows, dances and "the boys" for such
girls as these? But now one of the High School girls was speaking. "We
have most of our good times at the school. There is always something
going on--lunches or concerts or socials or dances--and once a year we
get up a play. Some girl in the class generally writes the play. It's
great fun."
Laura brightened at that. Here were three at least who cared for
something besides picture shows. For half an hour longer she let the
talk run on, and that half-hour gave her sidelights on many of the
girls. Except Olga--she had not opened her lips during the discussion.
When there came a little pause, Laura spoke in a carefully careless way.
"I told you, girls, that this is our Camp Fire room and I want you to
feel that it belongs to you--every one of you owns a share in it. We
shall have the Council meetings here every Saturday, but this room is
not to be shut up all the other evenings. We may have no moving
pictures, but you can come here and dance if you wish, or play games, or
sing--I'm going to have a piano here soon--or if you like you can bring
your sewing--your Christmas presents to make. What I want you to
understand is that this room is yours, to be used for your pleasure. You
haven't seen all yet."
Rising, she touched a button, and as the room was flooded with light,
threw open a door. The girls, crowding after her, broke into cries of
delight and admiration; for here was a white-tiled kitchen complete in
all its appointments, even to a small white-enamelled gas range and a
tiny refrigerator. On brass hooks hung blue and white saucepans and
kettles and spoons, and a triangular corner closet with leaded doors
revealed blue and white china and glass.
"All for the Camp Fire Girls," Laura said, "and it means fudge, and
popcorn, and toasted marshmallows and bacon-bats and anything else you
like. You can come here yourselves every Wednesday evening, and if you
wish, you can bring a friend with you to share your good times."
"Boy or girl friend?" Lena Barton's shrewd eyes twinkled as she asked
the question, with a saucy tilt to her little freckled nose.
"Either," returned Laura instantly, though until that moment she had
thought only of girls.
"Gee, but you're some Guardian, Miss Laura!" Lena replied.
As the girls reluctantly tore themselves away from the fascinating
kitchen, two maids entered with trays of sandwiches and nutcakes, olives
and candy.
"It is the first time I have had the pleasure of having you all here in
my own home," Miss Laura said, "so we must break bread together."
"Gee! This beats the picture shows," Lena Barton declared. "Three cheers
for our Guardian--give 'em with claps!" and both cheers and clapping
were given in generous measure.
When finally there was a movement to depart, Laura gathered the girls
once more about her before the fire. "I hope," she began, "you have all
enjoyed this evening as much as I have----"
"We have! We _have_!" half a dozen voices broke in, and Lena Barton
shrilled enthusiastically, "_More_!"
Laura smiled at them; then she glanced up at the words above the
mantelpiece. "The _joy of service_," she said. "That, to me, is the
heart--the very essence--of the Camp Fire idea. And while I am planning
good times and many of them for ourselves in these coming months, I wish
that together we might do some of this loving service for some one
beside ourselves. Think it over--think hard--and at our next Council
meeting, if you are willing, we will consider what we can do, and for
whom."
"You mean mish'nary work?" questioned Eva Bicknell doubtfully.
"No--at least not what you probably mean by missionary work," Laura
answered.
"Christmas trees for alley folks, and that sort of thing?" ventured
another.
"I mean, something for somebody else," Laura explained. "It may be an
old man or woman, a child or--or anything," she ended hastily,
intercepting an exchange of glances between Lena and Eva. "I just want
you to think over it and have an idea to suggest at our next meeting."
"Huh! Thought the'd be nickels wanted fer somethin'," Eva Bicknell
grumbled as she linked her bony little arm through Lena's when they were
outside in the starlight.
"Come now--you shut up!" retorted Lena. "Miss Laura's given us a dandy
time to-night, an' I ain't goin' back on her the minute I'm out of her
house. An' I didn't think it of you, Eva Bicknell."
"Who's goin' back on her?" Eva's hot temper took fire at once. "Shut up
yourself, Lena Barton!" she flared. "I ain't goin' back on Miss Laura
any more than you are. Mebbe you're so flush that you can drop pennies
an' nickels 'round promiscuous, but me--well, I ain't--that's all," and
she marched on in sulky silence.
On the next Wednesday evening, some of the girls came to the Camp Fire
room, and played games, which some enjoyed and others yawned over, and
made fudge which all seemed to enjoy. On the next Wednesday they sang
for a while, Laura accompanying them on the piano, and Rose Anderson
played for them on her violin. After that they sat on the floor before
the fire and talked; but Laura was a little doubtful about these
evenings. She feared that these quiet pleasures would not hold some of
the girls against the alluring delights of dances and moving pictures
and boys.
Meantime she did not forget Elizabeth, and on the first opportunity she
went to see Mrs. Page. Sadie opened the door, and was present at the
interview. She was evidently very conscious of the fact that her braids
were now wound about her head and adorned with a stiff white bow that
stuck out several inches on either side.
Mrs. Page received her visitor coldly, understanding that she came to
intercede for Elizabeth. She said that Elizabeth's father did not want
his daughter to go out evenings; that she had a good home and must be
contented to stay in it "as my own children do," she ended with a glance
at Sadie, who sat on the edge of a chair with much the aspect of a
terrier watching a rat-hole. When Miss Laura asked if she might see
Elizabeth, Sadie tossed her head and coughed behind her handkerchief, as
her mother answered that Elizabeth was busy and could not leave her
work.
"But wouldn't she do her work all the better if she had a little change
now and then, and the companionship of other girls?" Laura urged gently.
"She has the companionship of her sister--she must be satisfied with
that," was the uncompromising reply.
With a sigh, Laura rose to leave, but as she glanced at Sadie's
triumphant face, she had an inspiration. The child was certainly
unattractive, but perhaps all the more for that reason she ought to have
a chance--a chance which might possibly mean a chance for Elizabeth too.
She smiled at the girl and Laura's smile was winning enough to disarm a
worse child than Sadie.
"If you do not think it best for Elizabeth to attend our Council
meetings regularly, perhaps you would be willing to let her come this
next Saturday and bring her sister. After the business is over, we are
going to have a fudge party. I have a little upstairs kitchen just for
the girls to use whenever they like. I think your daughter might enjoy
it--if she cared to come--with Elizabeth."
Marvellous was the effect of those few words on Sadie. Seeing a refusal
on her mother's lips, she burst out eagerly, "O mother, I want to go--I
_want_ to go! You _must_ let me."
Taken entirely by surprise, Mrs. Page hesitated--and was lost. What
Sadie wanted, her mother wanted for her, and she saw that Sadie's heart
was set on accepting this invitation. "I suppose they might go, just for
this once," she yielded reluctantly.
Laura allowed no time for reconsideration. "I shall expect both of them
then, on Saturday," she said and turned to go. She longed to look back
towards the kitchen where she felt sure that Elizabeth must have been
wistfully listening, but Mrs. Page and Sadie following her to the door,
gave her no chance for even a backward glance.
"Good-bye," Sadie called after her as she went down the steps, and the
child's small foxy face was alight with anticipation.
Slamming the door after the caller, Sadie flew to the kitchen.
"There now, Elizabeth," she cried, "I'm going to her house next Saturday
and you're going--you can just thank me for that too. Mother wouldn't
have let you go if it hadn't been for me."
Elizabeth's face brightened, but there was a little shadow on it too. Of
course it was better to go with Sadie than not to go at all--O, much
better--but still----
When Saturday came Sadie was in a whirl of excitement. She even
offered--an unheard-of concession--to wipe the supper dishes so that
Elizabeth might get through her work the sooner, and she plastered a
huge white bow across the back of her head, and pulled down the skirt of
her dress to make it as long as possible. Sadie would gladly have thrown
away three years of her life so that she might be sixteen, and really
grown up that very night.
Olga was waiting at the corner for them, Miss Laura having told her that
Elizabeth was to go. Her scathing glance would have had a subduing
effect on most girls, but not on Sadie! Sadie did most of the talking as
the three walked on together, but the other two did not care. It was
enough for Elizabeth to be with Olga again, and as for Olga, she was
half frightened and half glad to find a little glow of happiness deep
down in her heart. She was afraid to let herself be even a little happy.
When the three entered the Camp Fire room Laura met them with an
exclamation of pleasure. "We've missed you so at the Councils,
Elizabeth," she said, "but it's good to have you here to-night, isn't
it, Olga? And Miss Sadie is very welcome too."
Sadie smiled and executed her best bow, then drew herself up to look as
tall as "Miss" Sadie should be; but the rest of the evening her eyes and
ears were so busy that for once her tongue was silent. She vowed to
herself that she would give her mother no peace until she--Sadie--was a
really truly Camp Fire Girl like these.
When in the last hour they were all gathered on the floor before the
fire, Mary Hastings asked, "Miss Laura, have you decided yet what our
special work is to be--the 'service for somebody else'?" she added with
a glance at the words over the mantelpiece.
"That is for you girls to decide," Laura returned. "Have you any
suggestion, Mary?"
"I've been wondering if we couldn't help support some little
child--maybe a sick child in a hospital, or an orphan."
"Gracious! That would take a pile of money," objected Louise Johnson,
"and I'm always dead broke a week after payday."
"There are fifteen of us--it wouldn't be so much, divided up," Mary
returned.
"Sixteen, Mary--you aren't going to leave me out, are you?" Miss Laura
said.
"I think it would be lovely," cried Bessie Carroll, "if we could find a
dear little girl baby and adopt her--make her a Camp Fire baby."
"Huh!" sniffed Lena Barton. "If you had half a dozen kids at home I
reckon you wouldn't be wanting to adopt any more."
"Right you are!" added Eva Bicknell, who was the oldest of eight.
"We might 'adopt' an old lady in some Home, and visit her and do things
for her," suggested Frances Chapin. "There are some lonely ones in the
Old Ladies' Home where I go sometimes."
But the idea of a pretty baby appealed more to the majority of the
girls.
"O, I'd rather take a baby. We could make cute little dresses for her,"
Rose Anderson put in, "all lacey, you know."
"Say--where's the money comin' from for the lacey dresses and things
you're talkin' about?" demanded Lena Barton abruptly.
There was an instant of silence. Then Mary threw back a counter
question. "How much did you spend for moving pictures and candy last
week, Lena Barton?"
"I d'know--mebbe a quarter, mebbe two. What of it?" Lena retorted, her
red head lifted defiantly.
"Well now--couldn't you give up two picture shows a week, for the Camp
Fire baby?" Mary demanded. "If sixteen of us give ten cents a week we
shall have a dollar sixty. That would be more than six dollars a month."
"Gracious! Money talks!" put in Louise. "Think of this crowd dropping
over six dollars a month for picture shows and such. No wonder they're
two in a block on the avenue."
"You see," Laura said, "we could easily provide for some little child,
at least in part. Girls, I'd like to tell you about one I saw at the
Children's Hospital yesterday. Would you care to hear about him?"
"Yes, yes, do tell us," the girls begged.
"He is no blue-eyed baby, but a very plain ordinary-looking little chap,
nine years old, whose mother died a few weeks ago, leaving him entirely
alone in the world. Think of it, girls, a nine-year-old boy without any
one to care for him! He's lame too--but he is the bravest little soul!
The nurse told me that they thought it was because he was so
homesick--or rather I suppose mother-sick--that he is not getting on as
well as he should."
"O, the poor little fellow!" Frances Chapin said softly, thinking of her
nine-year-old brother.
"Tell us more about him, Miss Laura," Rose Anderson begged. "Did you
talk with him?"
"Yes, I stayed with him for half an hour, and I promised to see him
again to-morrow. He wanted a book--about soldiers. I wonder if any of
you would care to go with me. You might possibly find your blue-eyed
baby there; and anyhow, the children there love to have
visitors--especially young ones."