CHAPTER XVII.
JOY BEFORE US.
Aunt Phoebe and Hinpoha, armed with sharp meat knives, were cutting upsuet in the kitchen. Hinpoha, as usual, under her aunt's eye, didnothing but make mistakes. "How awkward you are," said Aunt Phoebeimpatiently. "You don't know how to do a thing properly. I wish thatCamp Fire business of yours would teach you something worth while. Here,let me show you how to cut that suet." She took the knife from Hinpoha'shand and proceeded to demonstrate. The suet was hard, which was thereason Hinpoha had had no success in cutting it, and the knife in AuntPhoebe's hand slipped and plunged into her wrist. The blood spurted highin the air. Aunt Phoebe screamed, "I'm bleeding to death!"
Hinpoha did not scream. She took a handkerchief and calmly made atourniquet above the gash, twisting it tight with a lead pencil. Thenshe telephoned for Dr. Josephy, Aunt Phoebe's physician. He was out.Frantically she tried doctor after doctor, but not a single one was tobe had at once. Dr. Hoffman she knew was at the hospital. One of thedoctors she had telephoned was said to be making a call on the streetwhere she lived, and she ran down there but he had already left. Runningback toward the house, she collided sharply with a man on the street. Itwas Dr. Hoffman, who was obligingly coming up to deliver a message fromSahwah. "Come quickly," she cried, catching hold of his hand andstarting to run, "Aunt Phoebe will bleed to death!"
Dr. Hoffman hurried to the spot and tied up the severed artery. "Who puton de tourniquet?" he asked.
"I did," replied Hinpoha.
"Good vork, good vork," said Dr. Hoffman approvingly, "if it had not benfor dat it vould haf been too late ven I came."
"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Aunt Phoebe.
"Camp Fire First Aid class," replied Hinpoha.
"Humph!" said Aunt Phoebe.
But she did some thinking nevertheless, and was fully aware that it wasHinpoha's prompt action which had saved her from bleeding to death. Herarm was tied up for some days afterward and she was unable to use it.Hinpoha waited on her with angelic patience. "I've changed my mind aboutthis Camp Fire business," said Aunt Phoebe abruptly one day. "There'smore sense to it than I thought. If you want to have meetings here Ihave no objection."
Hinpoha nearly swooned, but managed to say gratefully, "Thank you, AuntPhoebe."
Hinpoha began to wonder, as she was thus thrown into closer contact withher aunt, whether Aunt Phoebe's austere tastes came from her having sucha narrow nature, or because she had never known anything different. Shecould not help noticing that there were woefully few friends who came tosee her during her indisposition. The daily visit of the doctor wasabout the only break in the monotony. From a fierce dislike Hinpoha'sfeelings changed to pity. "I wonder if Aunt Phoebe isn't ever lonesome,"she thought. "I don't see how she can help being." A line of her firesong was ringing in her ears:
"Whose hand above this blaze is lifted Shall be with magic touch engifted To warm the hearts of lonely mortals----"
"I wonder if I couldn't bring something else into her life," thoughtHinpoha. "At least, I'm going to try. Aunt Phoebe's never read anythingbut religious books all her life. I'd like to read her a corking goodstory once." Timidly she essayed it. "Wouldn't you like to have me readyou something else before we begin the next volume?" she asked, when thethird volume conveniently came to an end.
"Do as you like," said Aunt Phoebe, who was profoundly bored. Hinpohaaccordingly brought out "The Count of Monte Cristo" which she had beenreading when the ban went on fiction, and it was not long before AuntPhoebe was as excited over the mystery as she was. Romance, long dead inher heart, began to show signs of coming to life.
Hinpoha, looking for a certain little shawl to put around Aunt Phoebe'sshoulders one afternoon, opened up the big cedar chest that stood in herroom. She had never seen inside of it before. The shawl was not there,but there were quantities of table and bed linens, all elaboratelyembroidered, and whole sets of undergarments, trimmed with thewonderfully fine crochet work at which Aunt Phoebe was a master hand."What can all these things be?" wondered Hinpoha. "Aunt Phoebe certainlynever uses them." A little further down she came upon a filmy whitedress and a veil fastened onto a wreath. Then she knew. This was heraunt's wedding outfit--the garments she had fashioned in her girlhood inpreparation for the marriage which was destined never to take place. Aweek before the wedding the bridegroom-to-be had run away with anothergirl. The pathos of Aunt Phoebe's blighted romance struck Hinpoha"amidships" as Sahwah would have expressed it, and she wept over thelinens in the cedar chest. Poor Aunt Phoebe! No wonder she was sour andcrabbed. Hinpoha forgave her all her crossness and tartness of manner,and thought of her only with pity. Her romantic nature thrilled at thethought of the blighted love affair and her aunt became a sort ofheroine in her eyes. She yearned to comfort her and make her happy.
Downstairs Aunt Phoebe sat with a letter in her hand. It was from AuntGrace, Hinpoha's mother's sister, out in California. Aunt Grace had nochildren and was lonely, and was asking if Hinpoha could come and livewith her. Aunt Phoebe pondered. Of late there had been growing on her aconviction that she was not a suitable person to bring up a young girl.She certainly had not succeeded in making her grandniece love her. AuntPhoebe really was lonely and she did care for Hinpoha, but she did notknow how to make her care for her. Her experiment had been a failure.Well, she would send Hinpoha out to California with her Aunt Grace, whomHinpoha adored, and she would live on by herself. The prospect suddenlyseemed rather dismal and she confessed that Hinpoha had been a greatdeal of company for her, but she would not stand in the way of herhappiness. Her mind was made up. She pictured the joy with which Hinpohawould receive the news and it brought her another pang.
At the supper table she told Hinpoha that after school was out she wasto go West and live with Aunt Grace, and then sat cynically watching theunbelieving delight which flashed into her face at this announcement.But after the first flush of rapture Hinpoha reconsidered. In her mind'seye she saw Aunt Phoebe living on alone, unloving and unloved, to alonesome old age. Again she saw the cedar chest with its patheticwedding garments. Again the words of the fire song came into her mind.
"Do I have to go to Aunt Grace's?" she asked.
"Not unless you want to," said her aunt, wondering.
"Then I think I'd rather stay with you," said Hinpoha.
"Do you really mean it?" asked Aunt Phoebe incredulously. The ice wasmelting in her heart and something was beginning to sing. Hinpohaslipped out of her chair, and, going around behind Aunt Phoebe, put herarms around her neck. The gate of Aunt Phoebe's heart swung wide open.Reaching out her arms, she drew Hinpoha down into her lap. "My dearlittle girl," she said, "my dear little girl!"
And the _Desert of Waiting_ suddenly blossomed with a thousand roses,and Hinpoha saw lying fair before her in the sunlight the _City of herHeart's Desire._
Migwan was once more "in the dumps." The heavy strain under which shehad been working all winter, coupled with the constant worry anddisappointment, produced the inevitable result, and she broke down. Shewas chosen a Commencement speaker, and the added work of writing agraduating essay was the last straw. She might be able to attend thegraduating exercises of her class, said the doctor, but she was not togo to school any more, and of course there was to be no speech prepared.He would not hear of her working in an office during the summer, so herlast hope of going to college in the fall went glimmering. But reallythis last disappointment did not affect her as strongly as the othershad done. She was getting used to having everything she touched crumbleto dust, and besides, she felt too tired to care which way things wentany more.
Thus the month of May brought widely different experiences to thevarious girls, and went on its way, giving them into the keeping of theRose Moon. On one of the rarest of rare days that ever a poet dreamed ofas belonging to June, the Winnebagos found themselves skimming over thecountry roads on a Saturday afternoon's frolic. There were threeautomobile loads altogether, for all the mothers were along, besidesAunt Phoebe and D
r. Hoffman. It was a double occasion for celebration,for besides being the Rose Moon Ceremonial Meeting, it was the day whenSahwah was to lay aside her crutches permanently. The cast had beenremoved several weeks before and the splintered joint was found to be asgood as ever. And Migwan, although she did not know it yet, had morecause to celebrate than all the rest put together. Taken all in all, itwould have been hard to find a merrier crowd than that which sped overthe smooth yellow road on this perfect summer day, and many a bird,balancing himself on a blossoming twig, ceased his ecstatic outpouringof melody to listen to the blithe chorus of these earth birds, as theysang, "Hey Ho for Merry June," and "Let the Hills and Dales Resound,"each machineful trying its best to outdo the others.
And when they came to a sunny hill thickly starred with snowy,golden-hearted daisies they stopped the automobiles and picked greatarmfuls of the blossoms, and Aunt Phoebe and Dr. Hoffman wandered off bythemselves to the other side of the hill in search of larger and finerones.
Migwan's mother, sitting on the hillside with the warm sweet breezeblowing in her face, felt the joy of health and strength returning witha rush. "Oh," she sighed blissfully to Mrs. Evans, who sat beside her,"I haven't had such a good time since we all went coasting that night. Ideclare I'm impatient for winter to return, so we can do it again."
"Who says we have to wait for winter before we can go coasting," saidHinpoha, who had overheard the remark. "You just watch this child."Climbing to the top of the hill she beat a path down the slope, and thensat calmly down with her feet stretched out before her and slid down asswiftly as if the hill had been covered with ice. She had no sooneraccomplished the feat than all the Winnebagos were at the top of thehill, eager to try it. They came down all in a row, each with her handon the shoulder of the girl ahead of her, so that it looked like a realtoboggan. Then Mrs. Evans tried it, pulling with her stout Mrs.Brewster, who puffed like an engine and got stuck half way down and hadto be pushed the rest of the way. Then Dr. Hoffman and Aunt Phoebereturned from their ramble and the mothers hastily collected theirdignity and their hairpins, breathless but bubbling over with the fun ofit. Whoever has not slid down a grassy hillside in June has certainlymissed a joy out of his life.
They had frolicked so long in the daisy field that there was no time togo on to the place where they had intended to cook their supper, andthey had to stay right there. Aunt Phoebe had her first taste of campcookery on this occasion and was delighted beyond words with theexperience, as was Doctor Hoffman. "Sometime you and I vill go campingand you vill make someting like dis, mein Liebchen?" he said to AuntPhoebe, indicating the slumgullion. The group sat petrified at the termhe had used in addressing her, and Aunt Phoebe blushed fiery red. Dr.Hoffman saw that the cat was out of the bag. Laughing sheepishly, hespoke. "Dis lady," he said, laying his hand on Aunt Phoebe's, "haspromised to be mein vife."
Hinpoha dropped her plate in her surprise. "Aunt Phoebe!" she cried,incredulously, throwing her arms around her. Then her face fell. "Youare going away and leave me?" she asked anxiously.
"No, dear," answered Aunt Phoebe, "the Doctor is going to make his homehere and we will keep you with us always." And Hinpoha, though stilldazed by the news she had just heard, breathed easy again.
When the last bit of slumgullion was eaten and Doctor Hoffman hadscraped out the kettle, the Winnebagos retired to the other side of thehill to don their ceremonial costumes, and the rest of the company foundcomfortable seats on the ground from which to watch the comingperformance. As Migwan was wriggling into her gown a letter fell to theground. The mail man had handed it to her just as she was starting offwith the crowd, and she had thrust it into her blouse to read later.Being dressed a few minutes ahead of the rest, she tore open theenvelope while she was waiting for them. If the other girls had beenwatching her as she read it they would have seen her clasp her handstogether suddenly and draw in her breath sharply. Just then Nyoda'sclear Wohelo call sounded, and she went with the rest into the circlearound the fire.
The Doctor noted with a thrill of artistic pleasure how each girl, asshe came over the crest of the hill, stood silhouetted against the redline of the sun for an instant. A ripple of tender amusement went amongthe watchers as Althea was borne in, clad in her little ceremonial dressand headband.
As this was the big Council Meeting of the year it was more elaboratelystaged than the ordinary ceremonial meeting. Instead of a large firebeing kindled in the center of the circle the first thing, four fireswere laid, one in the center and three small ones around it in the formof a triangle. The girls were divided into three groups to representWork, Health and Love. Each group in turn tried to light the big fire inthe center, but in vain; it went out every time. Sorrowfully the groupsreturned to their own small woodpiles, which they did not think it worthwhile to light. Suddenly a little, bent old woman appeared fromsomewhere and stood beside the Work group, shivering with cold. "Thestranger is cold," said one of the Work Maidens, "we must light our firefor her sake, even if it is not worth while for ourselves." The fire waslighted and the little old woman stretched out her hands to the cheerfulblaze until she was warmed through. Then with a blessing on the WorkMaidens she went her way.
Faint with hunger, she stopped beside the Health maidens and begged abite of food. "We must light our fire and cook something for this hungrystranger," said one of the Health Maidens, "even if it is not worthlighting for ourselves." So they lit their fire and solemnly broiled awiener which the little old lady devoured eagerly, and passed on,likewise giving them her blessing.
When she came to the Love group it was quite dark, and she begged alight from them that she might find her way up the mountain. So they littheir fire and handed her a torch, upon which she straightened up andthrew off her poor cloak and revealed herself as a young and beautifulmaiden, the good fairy who inhabited those parts. Holding her torchaloft, she began to dance in and out among the three fires as lightly asa wandering night breeze. Suddenly she stooped to the Health fire andpicked up a burning brand; then darting to the Work fire, she picked upa burning brand; then running to the great pile of firewood in thecenter of the circle, she flung all three down together. The mingledFires of Work, Health and Love kindled the Fire of Wohelo, which eachone separately had failed to light, and as the flames mounted in the bigfire the little fires were scattered and stamped out, and the girlssprang to their feet singing, "Burn, Fire, Burn." A round of applausefollowed this masterly presentation, and Nyoda, who had worked it out,was called on to make a speech. A fine little bit of by-play not plannedfor by Nyoda was staged when Sahwah dramatically cast her crutches intothe Fire of Health.
Now this meeting was the time when the bead-band diaries were to befinished, and the most interesting looking one was to be interpreted ifthe girl was willing to do so. What tales were worked out in the bandsbelonging to Migwan, Hinpoha, Sahwah, Gladys and Nyoda! Nyoda hesitateda long time trying to decide which looked the most interesting,Hinpoha's or Migwan's, and finally decided on Migwan's. Nothing loth,Migwan told the story of her hard time during the winter, and the girlsin the circle and the visitors alike were stirred by the account of theparty dress and the family budget and the returned manuscripts and thevanishing college fund.
"There is one incident not yet recorded," she said, as she came to theend of the figures on the band, "and I really think this ought to betold with the rest." From the beaded pocket of her ceremonial gown shedrew the letter which she had read while the girls were dressing. It wasfrom Mrs. Bartlett, the mother of little Raymond, and read as follows:
"To say I was touched to the heart by your story of where the collegemoney went, is putting it mildly. If any one ever put up a brave fightagainst circumstances, you have. I showed the letter to my husband andhe was as much affected as I. And, curiously enough, a letter which wehad received earlier in the day, and which had caused us much vexation,contained news of a certain state of affairs which is going to give us achance to help you out of your difficulty.
"We own a small farm just
outside of Cleveland, and for years this hasbeen worked for us by a man and his wife. Just this week this man isleaving our employ to take up some other line of work, leaving the farmwithout a caretaker at a critical time when the spring vegetables areall up and need attention. Now, our proposition is this: believing thatas a Camp Fire Girl you know a great deal about growing things, we aregoing to ask you to take charge of the place for the summer, and willgladly allow you whatever profit you may make from the sale ofvegetables and small fruits if you will see that the peach crop isbrought through in good shape and keep the trees from being destroyed bybugs. We will attend to the marketing of the peaches ourselves when thetime comes. Good luck to you if you want to undertake the job.
"Your loving friend,
"MABEL E. BARTLETT."
"P.S. We have no objection if you wish to use the house for a Camp FireClub House during the summer."
A rousing cheer burst from the group around the fire when they heardthis solution of Migwan's problem.
By this time the full moon was climbing over the top of the hill andwaking up the sleeping daisies, and the little company rose reluctantlyand wandered back to the automobiles that stood by the roadside. Lookingback at the peaceful hillside they had just left, it seemed that thenodding daisies and the murmuring brook and the rustling grasses allechoed the song the girls had sung around the fire just before theCouncil came to a close:
"Darkness behind us, Peace around us, Joy before us, Light, O Light!"
THE END
The next volume in this series is entitled, "THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ATONOWAY HOUSE; OR, THE MAGIC GARDEN."
The Camp Fire Girls at School; Or, The Wohelo Weavers Page 17