Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains | Page 5

replied thus, in a
series of disconnected utterances:
"No, the alarm didn't go off--a--Marion. I got up at 6 o'clock. I turned
the alarm off. It is 6:30 now. I don't know what woke me. I just woke
up."
Marion arose, wondering at the peculiar manner of her roommate and
the strained, almost convulsive, tone of her voice. She asked no further
questions, but proceeded with her dressing and preparation for
breakfast. For the time being, she forgot all about the two letters in her
handbag that lay on her dresser.
In some respects Helen was a peculiar girl. If her speech and action had
been characterized with more vim, vigor and imagination, doubtlessly
she would generally have been known as a pretty girl. As it was, her
features were regular, her complexion fair, her eyes blue, and her hair a
light brown. Marion thought her pretty, but Marion had associated with
her intimately for two or three years, and had discovered qualities in
her that mere acquaintances could never have discovered. She had
found Helen apparently to be possessed of a strong, direct conception
of integrity, never vacillating in manner or sympathies. Moreover, she
exhibited a quiet, unwavering capability in her work that always
commanded the respect, and occasionally the admiration, of both
classmates and teachers.

Not only was Helen quiet of disposition, but strangely secretive on
certain subjects. For instance, she seldom said anything about her home
or relatives. She lived in Villa Park, a small town midway between
Westmoreland and Hollyhill. Her father was dead, and, when not at
school, she had lived with her mother; these two, so far as Marion
knew, constituting the entire family.
Marion had visited her home, and there found the mother and daughter
apparently in moderate circumstances. Naturally, she had wondered a
little that Mrs. Nash should be able to support her daughter at a private
school, even though that institution made a specialty of teaching rich
men's daughters how to be useful and economical, but the reason why
had never been explained to her. Helen got her remittances from home
regularly, and seemed to have no particular cause to worry about
finances. She had spent parts of two vacations at the Stanlock home
and there conducted herself as if quite naturally able to fit in with
luxurious surroundings and large accommodations.
Only a few days before the Christmas holidays, something had
occurred that emphasized Helen's secretive peculiarity to such an extent
that Marion was considerably provoked and just a little mystified. A
young man, somewhere about 25 or 27 years old, fairly well but not
expensively dressed, and bearing the appearance of one who had seen a
good deal of the rough side of life, called at the Institute and asked for
Miss Nash. He was ushered into the reception room and Helen was
summoned. One of the girls who witnessed the meeting told some of
her friends that Miss Nash was evidently much surprised, if not
unpleasantly disturbed, when she recognized her caller. Immediately
she put on a coat and hat and she and the young man went out. An hour
later she returned alone, and to no one did she utter a word relative to
the stranger's visit, not even to her roommate, who had passed them in
the hall as they were going out.
Helen Nash was a member of the Flamingo Camp Fire and
accompanied the other members on their vacation trip to the mountain
mining district. The other eleven who boarded the train with Marion,
the holiday hostess, were Ruth Hazelton, Ethel Zimmerman, Ernestine

Johanson, Hazel Edwards, Azalia Atwood, Harriet Newcomb, Estelle
Adler, Julietta Hyde, Marie Crismore, Katherine Crane, and Violet
Munday.
Miss Ladd, the Guardian, also was one of Marion's invited guests. The
party took possession of one end of the parlor car, which, fortunately,
was almost empty before they boarded it. Then began a chatter of girl
voices--happy, spirited, witty, and promising to continue thus to the
end of the journey, or until their kaleidoscopic subjects of conversation
were exhausted.
Every thrilling detail of the evening before was gone over, examined,
given its proper degree of credit, and filed away in their memories for
future reference. There was more catching of breath, more cheering,
more clapping of hands; but no mock jeers, now that the boys were
absent, as the events of the Boy Scouts' invasion and the many
incidental and brilliant results were recalled and repictured.
"I wonder what Harry Gilbert meant when he said some of them were
planning another surprise nearly as thrilling as the one they sprung last
night," said Azalia Atwood, with characteristic excitable expectation.
"He addressed himself to you, Marion, when he said it; and he's a close
friend of your cousin, Clifford Long. Whatever it is, I bet