 Chapter 7 of THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AMID THE SNOWS When Anthony Graham left his home and started walking slowly through the woods, he had absolutely no definite intention of any kind in his mind. He was bored and a little ashamed of harassing his sister. For, if Anthony had confessed the truth to himself down in his heart, he was really both glad and proud of what Nan was trying to do, and had felt secretly more ashamed of himself since she began her efforts. For the boy had a better mind than his sister and had more inheritances from his father's family. His idleness and weakness came more from his unfortunate environment and from the fact that nothing had as yet awakened any ambition or better feeling in him. He had not told Nan what he wanted with the money asked of her, but for the past ten days had been thinking that if only he could get away somewhere out of Woodford, where no one knew anything of him or his family, and have a fair start, why he too might amount to something in the future so that Nan need not be shamed by him. He walked for half a mile or so, and then sitting down on a log began to whittle. There wasn't any use trying to clear out without money to buy food, and he did not wish to remain anywhere in the immediate neighborhood. It had occurred to Anthony in the past week that he might work and earn sufficient money for his escape. But having applied at three or four places and been refused, his old shiftlessness and lack of willpower laid fresh hold on him so that he gave up the effort. Now, as he sat at his usual occupation of killing time, he tried to banish all thought and all desire. He intended waiting until it was time to walk back to the sunrise cabin with Nan and then go into the village and find his equally idle friends. Suddenly Polly's laugh sounded and then Betty's, as though in response to something her companion had said. The girls were driving along the road toward home, and a little farther on would come within a dozen yards of the spot where Anthony was seated, concealed from view of the road by the grouping of trees. The boys started at first with surprise. The winter woods had seemed so quiet and so lonely, not even a teamster had passed in all the time of his musing. And then a curiosity seized hold on him to see his sister's much-talked-of friends without being seen by them. Of course he had probably passed both Betty and Polly on the streets of Woodford a good many times, and that morning had caught a distant glimpse of them from the window. But he did not know one girl from the other, and from his sister's description he might now be able to tell. Betty was the beautiful one, and Polly, well, Nan no more than other people had ever been able to decide whether Polly was beautiful or whether she was so fascinating that you had to think so while she was talking to you. When she was quiet her face was apt to be pale and a little too thin. Anthony found a hiding place behind a tree bordering the road until the sound of the sleigh bells came nearer and nearer, and Firestar made her appearance. Then an impulse stronger and more dangerous than curiosity swept over him. For the first time since leaving his sister in the kitchen he remembered Nan's information. The two girls would be carrying back to their cabin a box containing Betty's jewelry. How easy to frighten them and make them surrender the box. Then he could get away from this neighborhood he hated and have a chance at a new life. He would do the girls no harm and only take enough money to cover his actual needs. The rest Betty could have back again, and Anthony did not believe that either Betty or Polly knew him on site. Nevertheless, though he had little time for reflection, with a quick movement he pulled his ragged cap down well over his forehead and eyes, turning up his coat collar and stooping picked up from the ground a heavy stick which was almost a log in size. An instant later Firestar's bridle was seized with an ugly jerk and the pony brought to a standstill. As Betty was driving the tin box was being held in Polly's lap so that the highway man's first words were addressed to her. Turn over that box to me, he demanded, trying to make his voice sound older and more threatening than usual. However, both girls were so entirely overcome by amazement at the unexpected appearance of a robber in their peaceful New Hampshire woods that for a moment they could only stare. The next instant Polly, with a quick flare of her Irish temper, leaned over and seizing hold of Betty's almost toy whip, slashed it in the face of the intruder. Get out of the way, she cried angrily. I am sure you can't know what you are doing. But almost in the same instant the whip was torn out of her hand and dropped on the ground. When Betty attempted to rush Firestar forward the pony's bridle was caught the second time. If you don't do what I say I'll break your ponies back with this stick, the boy muttered, and at this Betty winced, making no further effort to drive on. Firestar had been her pony since she was a small girl and the stick the young fellow held was large enough to do her serious hurt. Also, his manner was sufficiently ugly to indicate that he meant what he said. Polly was by this time so angry that she could scarcely think, but fortunately Betty, after the first moment of surprise and natural fear, had held herself well in hand. Now she looked so steadfastly at the figure at her pony's head that the young man turned his face away. You are Nan Graham's brother, Betty remarked quietly, and I hope poor Nan may never hear what you are trying to do. You may not believe I have ever seen you before but I have. Then, as we have told only Nan the reason for our errand to town, only she could have told you. I am quite sure though that she did not mean to betray us. Betty said this so loyally in such an unafraid yet accusing voice that Anthony Graham wished himself 10,000 miles from the place where he stood and as many leagues from the deed he was doing. However, since he had already disgraced both his sister and himself, there was all the more reason why he should go through with this cowardly business and get himself away if he possibly could. No matter who I am, you will hand that box over just the same and be quick about it, he commanded with another threatening wave of his stick. We will do no such thing, but will have you arrested as a thief, Polly announced defiantly, wishing with all her heart in spite of her campfire training that the despised Billy Webster might appear at this moment driving one of his father's wagons either two or away from town. At other times, she might look down upon Billy for having only a farmer's ideals. Just now, however, the splendid strength that his outdoor life must have given him would have been peculiarly desirable. However, to Polly's surprise and chagrin, Betty, whom she had always considered braver than herself, showed signs of weakening. I will give you the key to my box, if you will let me have some papers that are inside it which can be of no value to you. Betty said this with a nervous laugh, her face suddenly turning pale when it had formerly been flushed. Then she set her lips to keep them from trembling. Without waiting for an answer, she afterwards leaned forward and began searching under the carriage rug on the bottom of her sleigh for the purse bag in which Polly remembered the key to have been concealed. Anthony might at this instant have seized the tin box from Polly and been off with it before Betty could have driven Firestar on, but he was willing enough to have the key to Betty's box and even to leave her papers behind some tree if she so much desired them. He had never meant to take all her foolish trinkets which are of no value to anyone except a girl. So for a brief moment, Anthony did not look toward either Betty or Polly, but kept his eyes fastened on the pony's head. In that same moment, hearing a sudden war through the air before he was able to move, the boy found himself securely caught by a rope and his arms drawn tight to his sides so that his stick dropped with a clatter on the frozen ground. While Betty Ashton, with another rapid movement, wound the other end of her rope about the crossbar of her sleigh, catching it with a clove hitch, and then, with a little gasp of estonishment at her own prowess, dropped back into her seat only faintly hearing Polly's cry of delighted amazement. Not for nothing had Betty Ashton been learning to acquire honors in campcraft for the past six months, practicing different kinds of knot-tying with the other girls in friendly rivalry hour after hour. In the bottom of her sleigh, along with the purse bag, which really did contain her key, Betty had remembered that they had fifty feet of new clothesline being taken back to the cabin. In the moment of fumbling under the rug, she had quickly tied the much-practiced slip-noose and then thrown it with better skill than she could ever repeat. Polly gave a characteristic laugh to relieve the tension of the situation. We have caught the enemy and he is ours now, Betty, dear, but whatever are we going to do with him? But Betty had gathered up her reins and was quietly urging Firestar ahead. So there was nothing for their prisoner to do but to run along by the side of the sleigh. By superior strength, the young man could have jerked away from Betty's and Polly's hold, but not from the sleigh itself. Now the more he pulled on the clothesline, the tighter it bound him. Besides, it was difficult to do even this when all his strength was required, keeping up with the pony's rapid gait. I have often wondered how it would feel to be a conqueror driving through the streets of Rome with one's prisoners lashed to their chariot wheels, and this is deliciously like it, Polly sighed, before her companion had once broken, enjoying with all her vivid imagination the retribution that had overtaken the evil doer. But Betty's expression was strangely grave, and every now and then she kept glancing aside at the figure running along beside them. For, except for a first oath and a few violent threats, the young man seemed to own himself beaten and had since said nothing. There was a horrible droop instead to his head and shoulders and indeed to his whole figure, and he looked so ashamed that it made Betty sick to look at him. Polly did not seem to have noticed, but Betty felt that she had never seen just such an expression before. Polly, she whispered softly, do you think we ought to drive up to the cabin taking this fellow with us like this? Of course we can turn around and go back to town and even drive up to the jail with him, but that is just as bad. After all, he is poor little Nan's brother, and if we do the child can never hold up her head again. I keep imagining how I should feel if I were to be taken prisoner. After all, he is poor little Nan's brother, and if we do the child can never hold her head up again. I keep imagining how I should feel if I were to be taken prisoner and carried before a lot of strange boys to act as my judges. Then Betty shuddered as though her vision were real, but Polly only laughed so scornfully that the boy overhearing her cringed. It is an absurd supposition, Betty, and I can't well imagine you putting yourself in this dreadful fellow's place. You can hardly expect me to conceive of you, even in these advanced female days, suddenly stopping a number of young men in demanding their pocketbooks. Notwithstanding, Polly appeared deaf to her beloved Polly's teasing, for instead of answering, she slowed her pony down. Don't you think we owe anything to Nan as a member of our campfire circle, she asked? It seems to me that allegiance is one of the first things boys learn, and is because we girls don't feel it toward one another that women have the harder time. Instantly Polly sobered. That is true, Princess, she agreed, and I am desperately sorry for Nan, and would spare her if we could. But do you think it right to let an intended thief go free? Besides, if we do cut him loose, how do we know he will not seize your box away from us? Because I should drive up almost to the Webster Farm, where we could be heard if we called for help before letting him go. And anyhow, even if we don't let him go free, I should like to talk to him. Polly shook her head. Don't try reformation at the eleventh hour. I don't believe in it, she declared. Notwithstanding this, Betty drove on until with inhaling distance of the Webster Farm House, and then, without asking further advice from Polly, calmly brought her pony to a standstill. The young fellow made no effort to come nearer the sleigh, or even to tear himself away, but kept gazing in astonishment at Betty as she dismounted and walked fearlessly up to him. What made you want to take my jewelry, Anthony? she inquired. I know your name, because I have heard Nan speak so often of you. I wonder if you have ever tried to steal anything before? She said this apparently to herself, since the boy did not seem inclined to answer. And then Betty shook her lovely head softly. I wonder what it feels like to want to steal, she questioned. It must be some very dreadful reason that tempts one. You see, I have never been poor myself or known what it was to want terribly anything I could not have. And then, very swiftly and without allowing time for Polly to stop her, Betty drew out her campfire knife and cut the rope that bound the young fellow's arms to his sides. I don't know whether it is right or wrong for me to do this, she confessed. But for Nan's sake, I cannot bear to hold you a prisoner. Then both to her surprise and Polly's, Anthony made no movement and at the same instant the girls to their embarrassment saw that he was crying. Not weeping like some girls to whom tears come easily, but shaken by dry, painful sobs as though his shame and self-abasement were too great to be born. It was for Nan's sake I wanted to get away, he confessed, finally, pulling himself together by a tremendous effort. I thought maybe if I could get a chance like she is having somewhere away from here where no one knew me that I might be able to do something for myself. It was nearly killing me thinking I had ruined everything for her. So you were intending to steal in order to begin leading a better life? Betty repeated thoughtfully and the young man flashed an angry look at her. But she was not trying to be sarcastic and the expression on her face at that moment he never afterwards forgot. I should hate you to stop trying to make things right for yourself and Nan because you began the wrong way. She continued after a little thoughtful pause. Then with a blush and a humble look very characteristic of Betty when wishing to be allowed to do another person a favor she picked up her purse bag from the bottom of the sleigh and slipping her hand in it drew out a crumpled bill. Won't you let me lend you the money for your chance? She asked as though speaking to a friend and utterly ignoring the ugly scene that had just passed. I haven't much money with me so you must not mind. You can pay it back to me when you get to the new place and have good luck. And then before the dazed boy had time to understand what she was trying to do Betty had thrust ten dollars into his partially clenched hand and jumping back into her sleigh had driven rapidly away. Firestar was rather bored with so much unnecessary delay on his journey home and wanted to get back to shelter. A little later Billy Webster who had been cutting down trees in a portion of his father's woods took off his fur cap to wave to the girls just as Polly in her dramatic fashion dropped down on one knee in their sleigh attempting to kiss Betty's hand. Betty dear if ever I saw you do a princess-like act in a princess-like fashion it was when you gave that abominable boy that money she said admirably. It is my opinion that either he is absolutely no good or else he will reform from this moment and be your faithful knight to the end of the chapter. But Betty only smiled a little uncertainly. Perhaps it wasn't honest of me Polly to be giving away money when I owe so much to other people. And then touching the tin box in her friend's lap she said half jokingly and half serious. But since I am having to give up my kingdom I am glad to be able to help someone else come into theirs. End of Chapter 7 Recording by Betsy Walker Chapter 8 of the Campfire Girls Amid the Snows This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jude Summers The Campfire Girls Amid the Snow by Margaret Vander Cook Chapter 8 Possibilities Rose of the World My fate is to be decided on this coming Christmas night. Polly O'Neill made this surprising statement on the same evening following the adventure that had befallen her and Betty earlier in the afternoon. The seven girls were sitting in a crescent upon soap of pillows before their living room fire with rows on a low stool in the centre. Although it was now nearly bedtime no mention had been made of the cause of the two girls' trip into town nor of their unusual experience. Nan had come home uncommonly tired and silent and ever since supper time had been curled up on the floor using her pillow as a kind of bed and almost half asleep. But at Polly's extravagant words she sat up and looked at her curiously and so did all the other girls except Betty who only smiled sympathetically nodding her head reassuringly at Molly who seemed a little puzzled and a little annoyed. I don't see why it is going to be your fate that is to be decided any more than Betty's or any of the rest of us Polly. Molly answered before their guardian could speak. Just because you're going to have the chief part in our play when the rest of us just have less important parts. But Polly, who was in one of her wildest moods tonight flung her arms unexpectedly about her sister almost overturning her by her ardour. You don't know what you are talking about, Molly Mevernine because you haven't heard my news since I only learned it today in town. It can't affect Betty or you or any of the other girls as it does me because you haven't been yearning ever since you were born to go on the stage as I have until the very thought of the footlights and the smell of the theatre makes me hungry and dizzy and frightened and so happy. You haven't been in the theatre a dozen times in your life, Polly O'Neill. Molly returned looking even more serious than before remembering her mother's opposition and her own to Polly's theatrical ambition. And you know nothing in the world about what the life means. Well, I will know pretty soon, Molly. You see, I am sixteen now, almost seventeen. I will be through school in another year and then why if I have any talent mother must be persuaded to let me study and see what I can do and thereby hangs my tail. Two vivid spots of colour were burning on Polly's high cheekbones. Her eyes were shining as though she saw only the joys of the career she hoped to choose for herself and none of its hardships. And she had to hold her thin, nervous hands tight together to try to control her excitement. Don't tell, please, Betty. I am waiting to get more breath, Polly pleaded, and Betty nodded reassuringly. Not for worlds would she have stolen this particular clap of thunder from her friend. And it was rather a habit with Polly not to be able to breathe very deeply when she was much agitated. When Betty and I drove into town this morning, she said in the next instant, you know we stopped by Miss Adams to go over our Christmas rehearsals with her. Miss Adams was the teacher of Elocution at the Woodford High School and greatly interested in Polly. Well, when we had finished and she had told Betty of half a dozen mistakes she was making and me of something less than a hundred, she said slowly but with a kind of peculiar expression all the time, girls, I wonder if you will be willing for me to bring a guest to your Christmas camp fire play. Betty answered, yes, very politely, though you know we have asked more people already than we will ever have room for. But as I was mumbling over some lines of a speech I didn't say anything. Then Miss Adams looked straight at me and said slowly just like this, I am very glad indeed Polly for your sake. You remember that I have often spoken to you of a cousin of mine. We were like sisters when we were little girls. Who is now one of the most famous, if not the very most famous actress in this country. We write each other constantly and several times I have spoken to her about you. This very morning I had a letter from her saying she was tired and as she was to have a week's holiday at Christmas might she come down and spend it with me if I would promise not to let anybody know who she was nor make her see any company. My heart had been pounding just like this, Polly continued making an uneven quick movement with her hand. But when Miss Adams ended in this cruel fashion it must have stopped because I remember I couldn't speak and felt myself turn pale. And then my beloved Betty saved me. She answered in just a little bit frightened voice but you think Miss Adams you may be able to persuade your cousin to come to our play if we don't talk about it or let other people worry her and then she can tell whether Polly has any real talent for the stage or whether we think so just because she wishes us to. At the end of this long speech Polly may have lost her breath. Anyhow she became frightened and stopped talking staring instead into the open fire. It will be a great trial for the rest of us to have the great Miss Margaret Adams watching us act our poor little campfire play Betty continued. But I am sure we must all be glad to have her for Polly's sake. After this there was silence for a moment so that the noise of the old clock ticking above the mantle could be distinctly heard. Then the new guardian shook her head. I am sorry Polly, but I am afraid that having Miss Adams talk to you about your future whether she encourages you or not will not be right without your mother's consent. Rose knew Mrs. O'Neill very well and understood how she dreaded the life of the stage for Polly's emotional and none too well balanced temperament. Polly's fashion of living on her nerves rather than on any reserve strength would be a serious drawback. For a moment the older woman wished that she might be able to exceed to this Christmas experiment and that the great actress might be wise enough to recognize Polly's unfitness for acting and persuade her to dismiss the entire idea from her mind. Of course I will have to get mother's consent Polly agreed more quietly than anyone had expected. But I think when I write and tell her exactly how I feel she will do as I ask. It was now ten o'clock and Nan Graham rose first to make ready for bed. She was followed by Eleanor and Sylvia as it was already an hour past their usual weekday bedtime. But Betty laid her hand quietly on Rose's arm. Please don't go to your room yet. She whispered. I want to talk to you about. It won't matter if only Polly and Molly stay with us. She glanced expectantly at Esther supposing of course that she would retire with the other girls. But instead Esther was sitting with her big awkward hands clasped before her and such an utterly miserable expression on her plain face that Betty forgot her own problem and intended sacrifice. What on earth is the matter with you Esther Clark? She demanded a little indignantly. Half an hour ago you looked as you usually do and I am sure I have heard no one since say anything to hurt your feelings. Why please should you now look as if you had lost your last friend on earth? Esther laughed nervously. Please don't be angry Betty or Miss Dyer or Polly and don't think I mean to be irritating but really I don't think I can sing on the evening of our Christmas entertainment. I have been trying to make up my mind to tell you for days and days that I know I shall simply break down and disgrace us all. And since you heard that we were to have a famous woman as a member of our audience you are more sure than ever that you won't be able to sing? Polly questioned. While Polly's eyes gazed pasture as though they were trying to solve some puzzle. It is odd isn't it she continued speaking to all or to none of the little company. Here I am with just a slight talent for acting and perhaps not even that dreaming and longing to have this Miss Adams criticism even though I may break down when the time comes and here is Esther a really great gift liking to hide her light under a bushel. Oh me oh my and it's a queer world isn't it? Yes but Esther isn't going to hide her light this time it's too silly of her Betty rejoined. She has that perfectly wonderful song that Dick got for her last summer and has been practicing it for months besides we have asked our funny old German who rescued us from the storm to play Esther's accompaniment on his violin. He has practiced with her in town and is enraptured says Esther sings like a liba angel. Esther rose slowly to her feet. Well of course if you really wish me to Betty with all you have done for me but Betty gave her an affectionate push toward the bedroom door. Oh go to bed Esther what I have done for you has nothing to do with your singing and certainly gives me no right to try to run you. It is only that I don't mean you to take a back seat all your life if I can possibly shove you forward. At any other time Esther might have felt wounded at Betty's so evidently wishing to get rid of her and have her older friends stay behind for Esther had that rather trying sensitiveness that belongs to some shy people and makes them difficult. But with Christmas near at hand secrets were too much a part of campfire life to be regarded seriously so that Esther straight away left the O'Neill girls Betty and Rose to themselves. Then Betty went immediately over to a closet and brought out the locked tin box. As she opened it she explained her plan to Rose who said nothing at first merely little curiously over one of Betty's shoulders watching her take out her pretty ornaments while Molly and Polly stood guard on the other side. Betty of course had the usual discarded childish trinkets a string of amber beads pins and a small ring but these she put hastily aside as of no value and then with a little sigh of admiration and regret drew forth a really wonderful possession a sapphire necklace with tiny diamonds set between the blue stones which Betty loved and had chosen for her special jewel. I expect this is worth the amount of my debt Betty suggested huskily her father had given her the necklace the last summer they were in Europe together. But Rose dire shook her head decisively not that Betty I have not yet made up my mind whether you ought to be allowed to part with any of your jewelry at least before you ask your brother Dick. Next the girls considered Betty's blue enamel watch which her brother had given her on her last birthday and a small diamond ring. She had just about decided that she preferred to part with the ring when Polly exclaimed thoughtlessly are those young princess. At this Betty nodded frowning slightly. They had decided not to make any mention of this afternoon's experience in order that Nan should never hear about it. There is some mystery or other about these papers she explained picking up a large envelope with an official seal on the outside. Father asked me to take good care of this envelope all of it unless there was some very special cause. As he never told me what the reason should be I suppose I will keep it sealed forever. Then Betty with a little cry of delight dropped the envelope inside the box picking up another paper instead which had a gold seal and two strings of blue ribbon pasted upon it. What a forgetful person I am she exclaimed in a relieved way here is a two hundred dollar bond which honestly belongs to me since once upon a time I actually saved the money for a whole year to buy it. It will pay all I owe without any bother. And Betty tucking her precious box under her arm straight away the little company made ready for bed. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Of the Campfire Girls Amid the Snows This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jude Summers The Campfire Girls Amid the Snows by Margaret Vander Cook Chapter 9 Christmas Eve at the Cabin I am so sorry I never dreamed things would turn out like this said Sylvia Wharton awkwardly trying to control a suggestion of tears. She was standing in the center of the sunrise cabin living room with one hand clasping rose-dyer skirt and the other holding on to Polly. However, if she had had half a dozen hands she would like to have grasped as many girls for her hour of reckoning had come. Instead her eyes mutely implored Polly and Betty who happened to be hurrying by at the same moment and had been arrested by the apologetic and frightened note so unusual in Sylvia's voice. And this note had to be very much emphasized at the present time to have anyone pay the least attention to it since there were enough Christmas preparations now going on in the campfire living room to have sufficed a small village. On a raised platform which occupied about a third of their entire floor space Miss Martha McCurdy was rehearsing the two field girls Juliet and Beatrice who had only arrived the night before in the parts they were to play in the Christmas entertainment the following night. While Meg holding little brother tight by the belt was trying to persuade him to await more patiently his time for instruction. Toward the front of this stage John, Billy Webster and Dick Ashton were struggling to adjust a curtain made of heavy khaki. It had a central design the crossed logs and a splendid aspiring fire the well-known campfire emblem painted by Eleanor Mead who was at this moment making suggestions to the curtain razors from the top of a step ladder. Nan Graham and Edith Norton ran about the room meanwhile carrying Edith's bunches of mistletoe and garlands of cedar that several of their Boy Scout friends were helping festoon along the walls. Indeed every girl in the sunrise campfire was represented except Esther. She had gone over to the old orphan asylum where she had lived as a child for a final rehearsal of her song with the German hair professor who was staying with the superintendent of the asylum. For what reason he was there no one knew except that he must have intended getting music pupils in the village later on. However in the midst of the prevailing noise the little group about Sylvia had remained silent for their guardian's face was flushing strangely her yellow-brown eyes darkening and for the first time since she came into the Sunrise Club it was possible to see how Rose Dyer felt when she was truly angry. Although her voice never lost its softness there was a severity in it that the girls felt to be rather worse than Miss McCurdy's in her moods of disapproval. Do you mean Sylvia? Rose asked. That you and Dr. Barton have arranged to have a young girl whom none of us know brought to our cabin to be taken care of all winter without consulting me or even mentioning the subject to a single one of the girls and that this child who has been so ill she will require a great deal of care is actually to arrive this afternoon it seems to me that not only have you broken every principle of our campfire life but you have been lacking in the very simplest courtesy. Never in her life would Sylvia Wharton be able to explain herself or her motives properly in words. She was one of the often misunderstood people to whom expression comes with difficulty. Now her plain face was nearly purple with embarrassment. I didn't mean to be rude. Yes, I know it looks horrid and impossible of me but you see I meant to explain and to ask permission only I didn't dream that she would arrive for another week because just waiting until our festivities would be over and you would be better able to be interested. She looked rather desperately at Betty, Polly and Molly before going on but they appeared almost as overwhelmed as their guardian. You see, Betty it was something you said a while ago that made me think of it first she continued. You said to Miss Dyer one evening that you thought that we sunrise girls were getting rather selfish that we were not letting strangers into our club or doing anything for outside people so I thought as Christmas was coming I would like to help somebody perhaps we all would so when Dr. Barton told me about a poor little girl she is only thirteen I think who was ill probably dying and if only she could have an outdoor life such as we girls are living she might get well why I told him I thought we would like to have her in our camp Sylvia stopped because her words had given out but she could hardly have chosen a wiser moment for Molly whose gentleness and good judgment everybody respected was beginning to understand I think Sylvia is trying to show the Christmas spirit of doing good to the people who need it and letting us help she whispered coming closer to their guardian and slipping an arm about her waist perhaps our Christmas preparations have been a bit too much for ourselves of course Sylvia ought to have asked permission Rose and of course the little girl is not to stay if you don't want her but she didn't expect her for another week and please don't be angry on Christmas Eve this was exactly what poor Sylvia would have liked to have said without knowing how however it did not matter who spoke as Rose was plainly softening but it is Dr. Barton's part I don't understand Sylvia he is older a great deal older than you he must have understood that you had not the right to make such a proposition without consulting me or anyone Rose declared thoughtfully he did Sylvia now answered confidently feeling the atmosphere a bit more friendly he said at the beginning that the idea was quite impossible that Miss Dyer would never be willing to undertake a responsibility of such a character that he was surprised she had stayed with our campfire club so long it was only when I promised to try and save you all the trouble possible that he consented Miss Dyer you see Abby is the daughter of the lady Dr. Barton once had when he was a student in Boston and so he is much interested in her only he is too poor to pay her board and hasn't anybody to look after her at his little place and you mustn't think it is just goodness on my part wanting this girl at our cabin you see I do care about learning to look after sick people more than anything else and I do want to know if she helps so Dr. Barton thought I would not wish to help in the care of a sick child that I was only playing at being a real campfire guardian Rose Dyer repeated slowly and then without adding another word somehow she seemed to drift away however there were a dozen voices calling for her advice and aid at this same instant we have explained her failure to let Sylvia and the other girls know her possible decision the three older friends exchanged looks and then Polly patted the crestfallen Sylvia on the shoulder never mind dear some of us possess all the virtues except the trifling one of tact if your little girl comes we can't very well turn her out on Christmas Eve so you had better say nothing more has thought things over and we have had a meeting of our council fire then the girls hurried off to what was about the busiest day in their careers with little further thought of Sylvia's protege Polly to a quiet rehearsal with her elocution teacher of her part in the Christmas play Molly and Betty to assist with the final details of certain costumes and Sylvia who was never to apply her scientific interest toward helping with the cooking however by six o'clock all the sunrise campfire friends and assistants had gone back to the village and by seven supper was over and cleared away so that the girls might have a quiet evening and go early to bed in order to be rested for the next day Esther had only gotten home a few minutes before tea time but in the excitement no one had missed her nor did she seem much more tired than the rest of the girls from the strain of her last rehearsal nevertheless Miss McCurdy who had always a special affection for Esther did see that she was even paler than usual and persuaded her to sit close to her when the girls grouped themselves about their great Christmas Eve fire for an hour of Christmas storytelling before separating for the night and it was while their old guardian held everybody's attention that Rose managed to slip quietly away she was not a child she was not even a young girl any longer and yet she went straight to the refuge of her babyhood to Mammy who had a tiny room of her own just off the kitchen tonight there was a younger coloured girl in the kitchen who had come out from Woodford on her first day but as Rose passed their pantry she saw that Mammy had forgotten her 70 years and intended giving the New England girls a taste of an old fashioned southern Christmas for along with the beautiful pies and donuts which the campfire girls had made there were great dishes of sugar powdered cruelers a black cake as big as a cartwheel and half a dozen deliciously fried chickens of the turkey which had not yet been cooked down on a stool at the old coloured woman's feet Rose let Mammy brush out her yellow brown hair as she had done ever since she could remember she was tired tonight she had done more work in the past month than in all the years of her life and she loved it and was very happy and was only hoping to grow more capable and more worthy every day yet it was hard to have a narrow-minded New England doctor who had been a friend of her uncles criticising her to one of her own girls and failing to show faith in her or her work just because he was a recluse and spent his time in looking after the sick poor was no reason for being so severe and puritanical in his judgements Rose was not listening to Mammy's low crooning else her ears would not have been the first to catch the sound of a horse and buggy approaching their cabin door if the girls had forgotten the prospect of a newcomer to their campfire circle their guardian had not so now hastily tucking up her hair without waiting for a wrap Rose hurried out into the darkness it was a cold, clear night with many stars but it was hardly necessary for her actually to behold the shabby buggy before recognising it however the young doctor did not at first see her for he stopped and hitched his horse and then lifted out what appeared to be a soft bundle of rugs don't be frightened dear he whispered in a voice of unusual gentleness she they will be very kind to you I am sure even if they can't keep you very long I am sorry to understand that things weren't exactly settled and that we made such a mistake about the time but oh why Rose Miss Dyer he corrected himself hastily it is good of you to come out to meet us I am sorry to be putting this additional burden upon you and then his manner changed to a doctor's severity please go into the house at once you haven't any wrap and on such a cold bed is this really I don't see how you are able to look after girls when you don't look after yourself but Mammy appeared at this moment wrapping her charge in a long rose-coloured broadcloth cape and Rose's manner was unexpectedly humble I wouldn't have forgotten if it had been one of my girls she apologised and then more coldly won't you come into the house she had so far cut but an indefinite glimpse of the young girl in Dr Barton's charge and was stealing her heart against her until she had had time to think of whether it was best for the other campfire girls to bring this sick child into their midst for she did look such a baby standing there in the snow with an old-fashioned knitted blue woollen hood on her head such as little girls had not worn for almost twenty years and then suddenly the girl began to cry quite helplessly and pitifully so that Rose forgot every other consideration and put her arms about her as you would comfort a baby drawing her toward the cabin and into the kitchen that she might be warmed and comforted by Mammy before being presented to a dozen strange older girls all at once the young doctor did not follow them indeed Rose had not invited him in again moments later she must have remembered his existence for she came out for the second time into the cold Dr Barton extended his hand but apparently Rose did not see it for she kept her own arms by her sides saying in somewhat the same manner she had used earlier in the day to Sylvia I am sorry Dr Barton you do not think I can be interested in the care of a sick little girl and that you feel me unworthy to be a campfire guardian I know that I have not all the knowledge and character that is necessary but I am learning and Rose would not listen to the young man's explanation or apology for with a quick good night she turned and left him endeavouring to say something to her which evidently she did not care to hear End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of the campfire girls amid the snows this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen Vancouver BC the campfire girls amid the snows by Margaret Vandercock Chapter 10 of the campfire girls however of all the Sunrise Camp Fire Company it was Esther Clark who actually had the strangest Christmas Eve experience Betty had rather opposed her going over to the orphan asylum for a last rehearsal of her song with Air Crippen it was not really necessary knew her song as well as she ever would be able to learn it, and could only fail in her singing of it on Christmas night, should her audience happen to frighten her voice away. Nevertheless Esther had a kind of sentiment in seeing her old friends at the Asylum on Christmas Eve, since this was the first year that she could remember when her Christmas had not been spent with them, and there would be no opportunity for visiting the next day. For some reason or another, which Esther had never had satisfactory explained to her, she had been kept longer at the Orphan Asylum than any of the other children. She was sixteen, almost seventeen, in the spring before when Mrs. Ashton had persuaded the superintendent to let her try the experiment of having Esther as her daughter Betty's companion. Ordinarily the children were sent away to live and work in other people's homes when they were thirteen or fourteen. Many of them were adopted by the farmers in the surrounding neighborhood when they were almost babies, so that Esther naturally felt her obligation to be the deeper. Notwithstanding she was not thinking a great deal about her former lonely life at the Asylum, nor even of the queer German violinist's interest in her voice. As she drove fire-star over the now familiar road, both her mind and heart were heavy with the news Dick Ashton had been able to whisper to her in a few hurried moments when they had been alone in the cabin that morning, soon after Dick's arrival. Mr. Ashton had lost not merely a small sum of money which might cause him temporary inconvenience, as Betty imagined. He had had such serious losses that Dick's mother had written begging him and Betty to cut down their living expenses as closely as possible, and some one had to tell Betty. Dick was not a coward. In making his confidence he simply wondered if Esther would not be able to console his sister afterwards and to explain conditions to her better than he could, because Betty never seemed able to understand any question of money matters, however much she seemed to try. The actual facts he himself would tell her as soon as the holiday season had passed. There was one way in which Betty could save money. Esther decided she should no longer pay for her singing lessons. Indeed she would ask the German violinist that morning if there were not some way by which she could help him by playing his accompaniments perhaps if he succeeded in getting up a violin class in Woodford. Anyhow she would earn the money for her own lessons in some way, for unselfish as Esther was her music lessons meant too much to her were too important to her future even to think of giving them up altogether. The professor was waiting for her in the big, bare, ugly parlor of the asylum which however possessed the glory of a not utterly impossible piano. Nevertheless Esther only waved her hand to him as she passed the door on the way to her older friends. She was thinking that he looked older, poorer, and homelier than ever with his red hair, his speckled pale blue eyes, and his worn clothes. He had a little sprig of holly in his buttonhole in a determined German effort to be a part of the prevailing Christmas cheerfulness. Then half an hour later Esther sang her song straight through without hesitation or a single mistake to the elderly German's way of thinking. For when she had finished he looked at her speechless for a moment, and then taking off his spectacles wiped away a kind of mist from his glasses. Ock, my dear young Frolien, you half the great thing I hoped for through all my youth, and then gave up when the years found me, an almost big violinist thus talent. Was Ist es in English genius Nick War? And then with Esther blushing until the burning in her throat and cheeks was almost painful, and twisting her big hands together in the ungainly fashion Betty had almost broken her of, he went on seemingly unconscious of her presence. I am that thing you call a failure, but I used to dream I might have a child who someday would go farther than I was able, and then when I had to give up this also, Ock himmel. To Esther's great embarrassment her crippin then began sobbing in a most un-American fashion. It was my own fault, I should never have gone away, I. But whatever else he may have poured forth in his present state of emotion was heard only by the four walls of the room. For Esther, in utter concertation, slipped out, hurrying toward the small study in the rear of the house where she knew she would find her old friend, the superintendent at work. She told him rather shyly of her unceremonious leave taking, asking him to make her apologies to Hare Crippen, and to beg him to come early to their Christmas entertainment the next night. Then when she had put out her hand for farewell, quite unexpectedly the superintendent asked her to sit down again, saying that he would like to tell her Hare Crippen's story, and the reason he had come into their neighborhood, since possibly she might be able to assist him. Afterwards, for more than an hour, Esther listened to a most surprising narrative, and later on drove back to Sunrise Cabin puzzled, thoughtful, and just the least shade frightened and unhappy. However, she made up her mind not to let anything trouble her, until after their wonderful Christmas had passed. End of Chapter 10 Recording by Lyndon R. Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. The Campfire Girls, Amid the Snows by Margaret Vander Cook, Chapter 11, Gifts O come, all ye faithful, joyful, and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem, come and behold him, born the king of angels, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord. Esther sang the first few lines of the beautiful Christmas hymn in a low voice, but with gathering strength until when she had reached the refrain Sunrise Cabin was filled with melody. She had awakened before anyone else on this Christmas morning, and after thinking over more quietly the events of yesterday had slipped into her clothes, and then stolen into the living room hoping that her hymn might be the first sound that her friends should hear. It was a perfect winter day, from the window Esther could see the snow-crowned peak of Sunrise Hill, from which the dawn colors were now slowly fading and beyond a long line of the Crystal Hills. Wherever the Sunrise Campfire Girls should go in, after years, to whatever places their destinies should call them, the scenes surrounding their camp could never be forgotten, nor could there be found many places in the world more beautiful. Of course Esther had, until now, seen nothing beyond the New Hampshire Hills, and so this morning with a little only half-defined fear tugging at her heart, she gazed at the landscape until the eternal peace of the mountains rested and soothed her. Then turning away she went first to building up their great log fire until its flames roared up the chimney, and then to the singing of her song. By and by, with a blue dressing gown wrapped about her, Betty came into the room and stood resting an elbow on the piano. Polly and Molly followed, and soon after Meg and Eleanor, with Miss McMurty between them, until finally every member of the Sunrise Club had gathered in the room, including the little probation girl who entered last, holding tight to Rose's hand. She looked like a pale little Christmas angel with her big blue eyes set in a colorless face and her soft rings of light yellow hair which had been cut close on account of recent fever, curling like a fringe about her high forehead. When Esther came to the last verse of her hymn there were many other voices to join in with hers, and somehow all their eyes turned instinctively toward the grapevine tree which stood undecorated upon the farthest corner of their stage with the great silver star overhead. Yea, Lord, we greet thee, born this happy morning. Jesus to thee be glory given. Word of the Father now in flesh appearing, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord. There was an instance hush after this, and then a surprising amount of noise. Surely Esther's idea had been a very lovely one, for there was little Christmas peace and quiet at the cabin for the rest of the wonderful and eventful day. Some weeks before the girls had decided that there would be no present giving among themselves except the nearest trifles, since all their money and energy must be spent in making a success of their campfire play. But this did not forbid the receiving of gifts from the outside. So before breakfast was over offerings began to arrive, some of them for individual girls, but more for the camp. Esther and Mrs. Webster sent from the farm a great roasted goose stuffed with chestnuts, a baked ham, and two immense mince pies, while Billy Webster, who drove over to bring the gifts, shyly tucked into Molly's hands a bouquet of pink geraniums, and lemon verbenia from his mother's little indoor garden. To Polly, with a perfectly serious expression, he presented a bunch of thistles grown on the mountains that fall, and made very brilliant and effective by having their centers dye scarlet and being tied with a bright red ribbon. They were beautiful enough to have been bestowed on any one, and would be an ornament for the cabin living room all winter, and yet Polly, though she was far too clever to betray herself, could not but wonder if there were not a double meaning attached to Billy's gift. Dick Ashton gave no individual presence, not even one to Betty, but to the club he gave a reading lamp so brilliant that half a dozen girls might do their studying around it at night. If it were placed on the piano, Esther might be able to read her most intricate music without difficulty. When there were other more valuable gifts, Mr. Wharton, Sylvia's father, who had unexpectedly gone to Europe for a few weeks, left a check to supply the winter's cool bill, while Mrs. O'Neill from over in Ireland sent a set of kitchen aprons, which she had made during that winter for each member of the Sunrise Club, including Mammy. There was a mysterious communication received by Betty Ashton, however, of which she did not speak to anyone, not even to Polly. She was not at all sure from whom it came, but naturally there was but one person whom she could suspect. The postmark was a nearby town, and it was a common looking gift, just a card with the picture of a ladder rising in the air, apparently by its own volition, and very slowly ascending it, the figure of a young man, yet the words written below were of far finer significance than the picture, and Betty really wondered how they had ever made their appeal, and men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things. At four o'clock, when the girls were resting for an hour before getting ready for the evening's entertainment, convinced that there was nothing more to come for any one of them, there appeared at the cabin door certainly the most unlooked-for gift. Rose happened for the moment to be alone in the living-room, having firmly ordered the girls off to their bedrooms to lie down, while she attended to some final arrangements, such as finding space for a few more chairs for their audience than had been sent out from town an hour before. So the sounds outside did not at first attract her attention, though they were most unusual, but suddenly, when a large form apparently flung itself against the door, and there followed a low muffled cry, Rose, without a thought of Christmas, ran hastily to the rescue. Suddenly she was not nervous, else she might have been frightened when an unexpected object leapt up to her shoulders and a warm, wet tongue caressed her cheek. Straight away her cry of surprise and admiration brought half a dozen girls to her side, who had found sleep at so critical a time quite out of the question. In their surprise at finding their new guardian being embraced by a cream and brown and gold Saint Bernard dog, already a tremendous fellow, and yet still in his puppyhood, Polly, who was ever a lover of dogs, got down on her knees before him. Who's ever can he be, and how has he found his way to our cabin? She cried, but before her question was ended Polly herself discovered a small envelope attached to the dog's collar, and tearing it off hastily presented it to Rose with an eastern salam, as she happened to be already seated on the floor. From an unknown admirer, Rose, isn't this like a storybook? Betty commented with an unnecessary expression of demure-ness, for she had noticed an evident though faint blush touching their guardian's cheeks, but Rose answered with a dignity that somehow made Betty feel ashamed of herself. No, Betty, the dog is for our club, if you girls wish to keep him. Dr. Barton writes that he feels we are too much alone in these woods in the winter, and that if we will forgive his solicitude, he has sent us a third campfire guardian, and Rose slipped the stiff little note she had just received inside her pocket, realizing that it was as near an apology as the severe young doctor could bring himself to make. CHAPTER XII OF THE CAMPFIRE GIRLS AMID THE SNOWS This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Betsy Walker, Santa Fe, New Mexico. THE CAMPFIRE GIRLS AMID THE SNOWS By Margaret Vander Cook. CHAPTER XII THE CAMPFIRE PLAY By eight o'clock on Christmas evening, every seat in the sunrise cabin living room was filled except two, and toward these the eyes of every girl hidden behind the khaki curtain turned questioningly for the last fifteen minutes before their campfire play was to commence. However then, to Polly's despair, their last hope died away. The great lady and great actress in one would not form a part of their Woodford audience. Even her own Miss Adams had likewise failed her. Nevertheless their entertainment was to begin promptly. On this Miss McCurdy and Miss Dyer had both insisted, since punctuality was so seldom a feature of amateur plays, they wished thus to show one of the superior results of the campfire training. A campfire morality play. These words were printed on the Christmas programs, and it was an old-time morality play such as we have seen and read in every man that Polly and Betty had attempted to write, assisted of course by both their guardians with suggestions from every girl in the Sunrise Club. Whether they were successful in keeping close to the old model was not so much their ideal as the desire to show both by words and tableau the aims and the influence of the campfire organization, and what women have given to the world since the primitive time when human life centered about the campfire. At a quarter past eight the curtain arose slowly, showing the stage in semi-darkness and representing a scene in a primeval forest. In the corner is the bear pine tree. The ground is strewn with twigs, fur cones and needles, and there within the instant the figure of a woman enters. It is Polly, and because of her great disappointment there is a tragic droop to her shoulders. A pathetic expression in her great wide-open Irish blue eyes. She had hoped so much from Miss Adams's promise, and now, well, she must not forget her part. She must try to do her best for her friend's sakes. Polly is dressed in a short skirt with a fox's skin fastened from one shoulder to her belt. There are sandals on her feet, and her straight black hair is hanging about her shoulders. Unhappy she gropes her way about the stage, shivering and finding nothing to do, no place in which to rest herself. It is December, the month of the long moon, and the night promises to be bitterly cold. In another moment there is heard from the outside the crying of a child, and next little brother, very proud of his rabbit coat and cap, runs forward throwing his arms about the woman's knees and evidently begging for warmth and shelter. Still in pantomime the mother mournfully shakes her head, and with this Alan or Meade appears representing a primitive man and carrying a brace of freshly killed game over her shoulder. This he presents to the child and the woman, but both of them shake their heads and a moment later the man drops despairingly down on the frozen ground, burying his face in his hands, the child hiding between his parents for warmth. However, the woman does not cover her face, and by and by picking up two dry twigs from the ground she begins in an idle fashion to rub them together. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of light, and then darkness. It was a wise selection on the part of the Sunrise Club girls to have chosen Polly O'Neill to represent the mother of all the campfire women. For though she had when needful the Irish gift of expression, she had also a face so vivid and so emotional that to Polly's own chagrin it was seldom possible for her to hide from other people what was going on in her mind. Now, however, this characteristic was of excellent service. For there was not a member of her little audience who did not in this instant guess the inspiration that had just been born in the woman. In a seat toward the back of the living room, in as inconspicuous a spot as possible, a fragile looking woman, an unknown member of the small Woodford audience, turned suddenly to the companion beside her, nodding her head quickly. She had a plain yet remarkably youthful looking face, illumined by a pair of wonderful gray eyes with an indescribably wistful and yet understanding expression. And from now on she watched the girl on the stage more attentively. Rising quietly, Polly seemed almost to be holding her breath. Then with eager fingers she can be seen searching along the ground until by and by she has gathered together a few twigs. And now kneeling before them appears to be uttering a silent prayer. A moment later she picks up her former sticks, again repeating the rubbing of them together. For a while Polly seemed to be unsuccessful in making them ignite, so that in the background and well out of sight the other campfire girls hold their breath with a kind of sick horror, fearing that she is going to fail here and so make a fiasco of the entire scene. But the little waiting has only made the final result more dramatic. There is a tiny flare of light, and then bending over her pile of twigs the woman lights the first campfire. She guards it with her hands until there is a crackle, and many spurts of yellow flame, and the instant after is across the stage shaking the man by the shoulder and drawing the child toward the blaze. Together then they heap on more fuel until a really splendid fire is alight, and for fear anyone may think that this fire in the middle of the wooden platform would probably have put an end to Sunrise Cabin, it must be explained that a sheet of iron had been fastened on the floor that the fire might be built with entire safety. Like a flame herself the woman then flies from one home duty to the other, making a bed of pine branches for the child near the fire, appearing to roast the game for her husband. Far better by her actions than by any possible words, Polly told her story, until the curtain at last goes down on the beginning of the first home with the woman as its genius and inspiration. But before the curtain has finally descended, for a moment Polly's attention, as though drawn by an invisible magnet, centered upon the face of a stranger in the back of the living room, beyond the more familiar ranks of her friends, and with a quick intake of her breath and a feeling of thankfulness that her first trial is over and that she is not obliged to speak, the young girl recognizes the famous actress. She is glad that she had not known of her presence sooner, and also that her first appearance before her has been made in pantomime, for she guesses it to be a sure test of dramatic ability than any recitation an untrained girl might be able to repeat. If she had the necessary temperament, somehow in the same just past it must have revealed itself. But now an intermission of twenty minute passes, and the second act represents a scene wholly different from the first, for now the stage is intended to present as nearly as possible the picture of an ideal home. It was difficult to portray, of course, but then the bigger things must always be trusted to the imagination, for this home was not intended to suggest merely a single home, but a kind of universal and representative one. There were beautiful pictures in it and soft rugs and many books and windows everywhere, supposedly letting in all the possible sunlight, while over in the corner the solitary pine tree still stood, but now covered with many white candles, although none of them were yet a light. Then the door opens and the first spirit of the home enters. This is Esther Clark wearing a kind of blue tunic with a silver band about her unloosened red hair. With swift steps and busy fingers she moves about bringing a bunch of winter roses to a table, putting fresh logs on the fire, drawing chairs nearer to the inspiring blaze, which is now no longer a primitive campfire but a great hospitable open hearth. Then Esther goes to the front of the stage and waits there for a moment in silence, before beginning her speech. And there are but few persons watching her who have not yet guessed what spirit she is illustrating. Esther is awkward and not handsome. Nevertheless, because she has a clear and beautiful speaking as well as singing voice, she has been chosen for this particular part. Now she is plainly heard throughout the room. I am work, the great mother spirit of the earth. I have borne many children with a fairer fame, service who is my daughter with a gentler name. And here Nan Graham in a yellow costume with her black hair flowing over her shoulders and her dark eyes shining walks forward and takes her place at one end of the stage just a little back of the speaker. Followed by Eleanor Mead in a white robe with a wreath of laurel on her head and a scroll in her hand, who is seen by the audience as Esther continues. Knowledge, who needs no word of mind to prove her worth. Beauty that shalt not fade. Surely it lives through me in music, books, and art, a noble trinity. Then Betty Ashton, whom there is no difficulty recognizing as the spirit of beauty, approaches the front of the stage in a dress of some soft silvery material with three stars in her hair and stands beside Eleanor. And health and happiness, would they deny their birth? And let them seek it in some nobler form than mine. The quest is everlasting, but the choice is thine. Sylvia and Beatrice field then advance together and take their places in the center of the group. Sylvia has health dressed in the green of open fields and Beatrice in deep rose color. Trustworthiness and sympathy dwell by my hearth with purity. We are the graces of the home. And yet there is one other fairer still to come, whose handmaids are these spirits named above. To her alone I yield my gracious place, the inspiration of the home. The world is love. While Esther has been finishing her verse, Juliet Field has come forth to portray the spirit of trustworthiness in a dress of deep violet carrying a sheath of purple lilies. Meg, with her charming face so full of humor and tenderness, is the embodiment of sympathy. And Edith Norton, as purity, has her long hair falling almost down to her knees and wears a dress of the palest green, like Undine when she first comes forth from the sea. And now, a crescent has slowly formed about the figure of Esther, who is a little in advance of the other girls, but now, as she speaks the final word, love, she steps quietly backward, and Molly O'Neill as the spirit of love occupies the center of the stage. She has never looked half so lovely in her life as she does tonight. Her gown is of pale pink. She has a wreath of roses in her black hair. Her usually too-grave expression is illumined by a smile born partly of fear and the rest of pride, which has nothing to do with her own appearance, but is a kind of shadowy pleasure in the beauty and the significance of the tableau surrounding her. From his place behind the curtain, Billy Webster wonders how he was ever able, even at the beginning of their acquaintance, to confuse the twin sisters. Polly in all her existence has never looked so pretty as this, and probably never will. And then Billy comes to his senses in a hurry, realizing it is now his duty to assist in letting the curtain drop on this second scene in the campfire allegory. In the last act, the Christmas tree is all ablaze with pure white candles and silver tinsel, and above it is suspended a great silver star, while the girls in their many-colored costumes are seen dancing before it. Then, at the close of the dance, Polly again enters. She is to recite the epilogue to make plainer the ideals of the campfire. But some change has come over her since the first scene. Her color is entirely gone. Her eyes are rimmed, and worst of all, she feels that a deadly weight is settling on her chest, and that her voice is nowhere to be found. She is having an attack of stage fright. But Polly does not yet know it by that name. The truth is, she has grown desperately tired. The strain and excitement of waiting after the long day's pleasure, with the very foolish thought that her fate is probably to be decided by one person's judgment of her abilities, has proved too much for her. She tries pulling herself together. She sees many eyes turned up toward her, with one face shining a little farther off like a star. Polly opens her mouth to speak, but there is a great darkness about her. The world is slowly slipping away. She puts out both arms with a pathetic appeal for silence and patience, and then suddenly someone is holding her up, and the other girls are forming a rainbow circle about her so that she is safely hidden from view. For in a flash Betty Ashton has guessed at Polly's faintness, has signaled her companions, and then reached her first so that the curtain finally fell on perhaps the prettiest scene of all. CHAPTER XIII An Indian Love Song Although Polly O'Neill could never afterwards be persuaded that her failure had not marred the campfire play, nevertheless there were many members of the audience who never realized that anything had gone wrong, so promptly had the other girls acted, and so swiftly had the curtain be rung down. And then, within a remarkably short space of time, Esther had reappeared to close the entertainment with her song. The stage had been left as it was in the final act. The piano was already there, and almost immediately the accompanist, Esther's music teacher in the village, seated herself before it. The only delay was of a few minutes, caused by the fact that Esther had insisted on wearing her ordinary clothes. A week before, therefore, Betty had made, for her, a simple white dress, and this, Miss Murty very quickly helped her into, braiding her red hair into a kind of crown about her head. Her toilet was, of course, made in a great hurry, but then Esther was so convinced of her own homeliness that she cared very little, except to look neatly and appropriately dressed. Air Crippen and Esther then walked out on the platform together, the man leading the girl with one hand and carrying his violin with the other. It was curious the similarity in their colouring. Very little of the Indian idea had the girls thus far brought into their Christmas campfire, entertainment, but now Esther's song was to bring with it this suggestion, although it had been chosen chiefly because of its beauty and suitability to Esther's voice. It was, however, a wonderful Indian love song, which Dick had found quite by accident the summer before for his sister's friend. Esther was also dreadfully nervous and frightened at the beginning of her song, but fortunately for her she was thinking more of the music itself than of the effect she was to produce. Nevertheless it was with sensations of disappointment that the friends who cared most for her singing listened to the first verse of her song. Dick Ashton, who had found himself a seat in the back of the room when he was no longer needed to assist with the management of the curtain, moved impatiently several times, thinking that Betty had probably been making unnecessary sacrifices to cultivate her friend's voice and that they had all probably been mistaken in the degree of Esther's talent. However, Dick changed his mind so soon that he never afterwards remembered this first thought, but sat spellbound with the light, feeling every nerve in his body thrill and quiver with the pathos and loveliness of a voice that was so clear, so true, and so sympathetic that not a single member of Esther's audience failed to respond to its beauty. The song had a kind of plaintive cadence and had been arranged either for a tenor or soprano. Feeds the star of morning, west winds gently blow, soft the pine trees murmur, soft the waters flow. Left thine eyes, my maiden, to the hilltop's nigh, night and gloom will vanish when the pale stars die. Lift thine eyes, my maiden, hear thy lovers cry. From my tent I wander, seeking only thee, as the day from darkness comes for stream and tree. Lift thine eyes, my maiden, to the hilltop's nigh. Low the dawn is breaking, rosy beams the sky. Lift thine eyes, my maiden, hear thy lovers cry. Lonely is our valley, though the month is May. Come and be my moonlight, I will be thy day. Lift thine eyes, my maiden, oh, behold me nigh. Now the sun is rising, now the shadows fly. Lift thine eyes, my maiden, hear thy lovers cry. Hearing the applause which broke out like a storm at the close of Esther's singing, Betty managed to get away from Polly and to find Esther shivering in the kitchen, which opened just off their stage, and had been used for the entrance way that evening, but no power or persuasion could have induced Esther to go back upon the stage, not even when Air Crippen added his entreaties, nor when Dick slipped out into the cold and came around through the back door to congratulate her. If Esther had pleased Betty and Dick and Miss McMurty, really she cared very little for any one's criticism. Nevertheless, later that evening, when the company was enjoying a kind of informal reception, she could not refuse to be introduced to the celebrated Miss Margaret Adams, who sent one of the girls especially for her. Esther was awkward and tongue-tied and nervous as usual when the great lady congratulated her, very different from Polly, who, when she had recovered from her faintness, had come immediately out into the living room and gone straight up to Miss Adams and taken her hand. If I wasn't so used to failing at most of the important moments of my life, I think I could bear to live after tonight, she said with characteristic Polly exaggeration, then with one of the sudden smiles that so transformed her face and made her fascinating both to strangers and friends, she added, but after all I have seen you and I am talking to you now. And as that is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, I'm going to try and not care about anything else. Then the older woman pressed Polly's hot hand in both of hers, looking keenly into the girl's expressive face. Only she knew how much Polly did care about her failure and also that her suffering had not yet fully begun, because until the excitement of the evening was well over, the girl would not fully realize all that she at least believed this failure meant. Come and see me for half an hour tomorrow. I can judge nothing by tonight, and do please remember, child, that one person's judgment in this world fortunately does not count for much at best. I want to have a little talk with you just because my cousin, whom I love very dearly, has told me so much about you. And because, Polly added with her lips trembling, because you are sorry for me, but I don't care so much why you want me. I only know I want to come more than anything in the world. Of course, at the close of the campfire play, it was then impossible for Miss Adams to escape recognition, so she was evidently tired on her way back home from the cabin, and therefore did little talking. However, after the cousins had undressed for the night, she called softly into the next room. My dear Mary, I think your Polly is charming, but I am afraid your little girl has the dream and the temperament, and that the other plainer girl has the talent. But then who can tell when they are both so young? In Chapter 13, Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Chapter 14 of the Campfire Girls Amid the Snows This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Betsy Walker, Santa Fe, New Mexico. The Campfire Girls Amid the Snows by Margaret Vander Cook. Chapter 14, Molly's Confident Of her visit to Miss Adams, Polly never afterwards spoke, except to Betty and her sister Molly, asking that they tell Rose Dyer that it was right that she as their guardian should know and promising to write her mother. However, several of the other Campfire Girls believed that they saw a slight change in Polly dating from her visit. Afterwards, she never seemed to give up, at least without some struggle, to her old, utterly unreasonable changes of mood. To Betty and Molly, however, Polly confessed that although Miss Adams had been kind beyond her wildest dreams, she had not said that she had seen any evidences of genius, or even of marked ability in her interrupted dramatic efforts. Although she had suggested that only the most remarkable people the world has ever known have betrayed exceptional gifts at the age of sixteen, that most people only achieve success by endless patience, faith, and work, and by what sometimes looks at first like failure. She had then told Polly something of her own early struggle. But this Polly, of course, did not reveal even to her sister and dearest friend. However, to Molly's relief, she did announce that she meant to spend the next two years in doing everything she could for her health, by obeying every single Campfire rule that she meant to learn more self-control, to study harder, and also to memorize all the plays and poems she possibly could. For at the close of her graduation at the high school, the wonderful Miss Adams had asked that Polly write her and then, if her mother was willing, if Polly was well and of the same desire, she would see that she had an opportunity for the kind of study she would then need should she adopt the stage for her profession. For the truth is that though the great actress had not been particularly impressed by Polly's acting, she had discovered two things about her. One, that she had the expressive face with quick mobile features and the graceful carriage more to be desired on stage than either beauty or stateliness, and moreover, like most other people, she had taken a decided fancy to the girl herself. For a few weeks following Polly's famous interview, her sister Mollie found herself and Polly farther apart in sympathy than they had ever been before in their lives. Under nearly all other circumstances, Mollie had always allowed herself to be influenced by her twin sister's wishes. Polly had always seemed to want things so much harder than other people that she and her mother had usually been willing enough to give in. But now, on this question of Polly's going upon the stage after she had finished her education, Mollie made up her mind to stand firm in her opposition at every possible opportunity, even if her mother should give in to Polly's persuasion. It was utterly impossible for Mollie O'Neill to understand her twin sister's restlessness and ambition. How could she ever wish to leave her home and mother, to leave her, to follow after such a will of the wisp? It was in vain that Polly explained that it was no lack of affection on her part, that she surely loved her own people as much as they could love her, but that she felt she must see more of the world, live a wider life than Woodford could give her. Mollie was always obvurate. There was only one way by which Polly could silence her twin, and that was to inquire if Mollie meant always to stay at home, to remain an old maid. And when Mollie most indignantly denied any such suggestion, Polly then asked how if she loved them could she make up her mind to go away from home on account of a strange man, and if a career wasn't as good as a husband, until Mollie became too indignant and unhappy for argument, and usually by making no further replies carried off the honors of war. If only Mollie could have had another girl to unbuzzle herself to, but there was no one. Polly had asked her not to discuss her affairs with any one of the campfire girls except Betty Ashton, and Betty openly sympathized with Polly. Having no gifts herself, she used to say that all she could do would be to live in the successes of Polly and Esther, although Polly used always to assure her in return that a princess was above the possession of small abilities like ordinary mortals, and Esther that she never expected to have any success beyond learning to sing well enough to make her own living, and perhaps someday to have a position in the Woodford Church Choir. So Mollie, for the month succeeding Christmas, kept most of her worry to herself, and to the entire sunrise campfire club's surprise and consternation, grew quite unlike her usually sweet-tempered happy self. Sometimes she used to insist upon taking the daily exercise prescribed by the campfire rules entirely alone, if she were allowed, in order that she might think up some possible way of influencing Polly to give up her wholly foolish ambition. Since Polly felt she must do something towards supporting her mother and herself, she should try to learn being a teacher like Miss McCurdy or Miss Mary Adams. One Sunday afternoon, being particularly low in her mind because Rose Dyer had thought Polly not very well, and had suggested she stay at home and take her walk outside the cabin with the newest campfire girl, Mollie had deliberately stolen off while her friends were getting ready for a hard tramp through the woods. She did not care at the time that their guardian might object to her going off alone. She almost hoped that something might happen to her to make Polly feel uneasy. Since Polly was always making her perfectly miserable, why she might as well experience the sensation occasionally herself. So, knowing that the other girls were to strike out through the pine woods, find the road and walk over towards the asylum to escort Esther home, who was now having a weekly music lesson with Herr Krippen, Mollie first walked back of the cabin and then found the road through the Webster Farm. She didn't walk very far, however. It was perfectly ridiculous of her, of course, to anticipate trouble, and yet somehow she felt that she and Polly were never going to be just the same that they had been in the past to one another, in some way they would be separated. Suddenly, Mollie felt a wave of homesickness, of longing for her mother such as she had not felt since the first few weeks after Mrs. O'Neill's sailing for Ireland the spring before. So, quite unmindful of consequences, Mollie dropped down on the stump of a tree, deliberately giving herself up to the enjoyment of tears. It was so utterly impossible ever to cry at the cabin. Someone was always about seeing you, and beside all the other campfire girls, Mollie solemnly believed to have outgrown the foolish weakness of crying. It was so utterly in contradiction to all their training. The tears, however, must have been extremely near the surface since they dried so instantly, and Mollie jumped to her feet indignantly when a hard ball of snow went whizzing past her ear, almost striking her. A moment later she heard footsteps coming up behind her. Hope you won't mind my appearing to pay off old scores in this way. I really had no idea of hitting you, but I had to attract your attention in some fashion so you wouldn't run away from me. Said a voice Mollie immediately recognized, and a moment later Billy Webster appeared by her side. Would anyone in the world except Ms. Polly O'Neill seat herself calmly on a stump in the midst of the winter woods with nothing but snow and ice all about her as if she were in the lap of spring, he asked. And then, when Mollie made no answer and catching just a side glance at her downcast face, he puckered his lips as though intending to whistle. But better manners prevailing said as sympathetically as he could. Dear me, Ms. Polly, you look as though you were desperately unhappy over something or other. What is it that is troubling you this time? Mollie was wearing a long brown coat exactly like Polly's red one, and her brown tamashanter she had pulled down as low as possible over her face because of the cold January wind. But now she turned with some indignation towards her companion. I am not Polly, she announced with a good deal of vexation. The twin sisters never liked being taken for one another. I am sorry, but I suppose Polly hasn't a monopoly of all the trouble in this world, or at least she very often passes it on to other people. Instantly, Billy's fur cap was off showing his heavy hair which was browner than during the months of exposure to the summer sun. But although his face was also less tanned, his eyes were as blue and as full of humor as ever. It is I who am sorry, and glad too, Ms. Mollie, he answered as gallantly as possible. It seems to be my fate everlastingly to put my foot in it with both you and your sister. I could have sworn not long ago I would never again mistake you for one another, and here I am at it again. But you will forgive me this time. You see, you don't look quite like yourself today. You are so much paler and kind of uncertain looking and cross. But now I beg the other Miss O'Neill's pardon. And Billy laughed, not so much as though he cared a great deal about having made fun of Polly, but more in order to cheer up Mollie. Better not let Polly hear you say that, she returned smiling a little. You know, like the tiger in Little Black Sambo, she would have to eat you up. But Polly is really a great deal better tempered than I am and sweeter than anything nowadays. Ask anybody in camp. It is I who am the cross one, and it is all because I am so unhappy. And then, to Mollie's own surprise, and Billy's decided embarrassment, she began crying a great deal harder than before. There was nothing a fellow could do but just to stand there and watch her for a moment. And then Billy had a feeble inspiration. He tucked her arm through his comfortingly. Come, it's getting dark. These days are so dreadfully short. Let me walk on back to the cabin with you. And on the way, Mollie discovered herself unexpectedly confiding everything that troubled her about her sister to this comparatively unknown boyfriend. Although the campfire girls had seen more of Billy Webster than anyone else because of their living so near his father's farm, for the first few minutes Mollie felt she might regret her outburst. But not for long. For, to her satisfaction, and indeed to her very real consolation, Billy felt exactly as she did about Polly. It was utterly absurd for Polly to talk about going away from Woodford even to study for the stage. She was not strong enough. The life was a perfectly abominable one for a lady, but for a delicate, high-strung girl like Polly O'Neill, it was worse than absurd. It was wicked. Mollie should write for her mother to come home to prevent Polly's getting the idea more firmly fixed in her mind. Later on, it might be more difficult to influence her. Billy Webster fairly spluttered with indignation. His mother was a perfect farmer's wife devoted to her husband, to her son, and a younger daughter, and to the life and work of her farm and, very naturally, Billy's mother was his ideal. He liked the two O'Neill girls very much, had known of their struggle to get along and of their mother's efforts to give them an education, and believed, like Mollie, that it was ungrateful of Polly to wish to leave her home so soon as she was grown up. Besides, he did not like to see Mollie so worried. What a strangely difficult person Polly was. There were times when he felt he almost hated her, and then again she was rather fascinating. I have got about half as much influence with your sister as that totem pole, he announced, when he had brought Mollie almost back to the sunrise cabin. But if there is anything I can ever do to help you make her change your mind, why count on me up to the limit? Don't you think the best thing would be somehow to joke the whole idea out of her? She is just the kind of person to be more influenced by joking than any real opposition. Mollie bowed her head in an entire agreement. Yes, but what kind of a joke could we ever think up that could have anything to do with Polly's wishing to be an actress and meaning to study several years from now? She inquired doubtfully. And, to do Billy Webster credit, he did look considerably confused. Well, you can't say right off, he confessed, laughing a little at himself. But if you and I think things over for a week or so, perhaps an inspiration may come to one or the other of us. And in the meantime, he added this rather hastily, I wouldn't mention to your sister that you have spoken of her plans to me. It is all right, though, for I shall never breathe what you have told me to anyone.