The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit | Page 6

in the station this morning,"
murmured Migwan.
Sahwah and Gladys giggled; Hinpoha frowned. "All right, if you're
going to laugh at me," she began.
"Go on, we'll be good," said Migwan hastily.
"Tell us some more about the light-haired stranger. Please tell us when
he is coming into her life, so we can be there to see."
"He has already come," announced Hinpoha, after thoughtfully
squinting into the bottle.
"News to me," laughed Sahwah, amused at the seriousness with which
Hinpoha delivered her revelations. "Oh, I know who it is," she
continued, giggling. "It's the brakeman. He was a Swede, with the
yellowest hair you ever saw. He was awfully skinny, too. He was very
polite, and told me everything he knew, and then went away to find out
some more."
Migwan and Gladys shouted; Hinpoha pouted and snatched up the
bottle, shaking it with offended vigor, setting the petals whirling madly
and breaking up the "cast" of Sahwah's fortune.
"There was another man, too," she announced, with a
don't-you-wish-you'd-waited air, "but I won't tell you about him now.
He was awfully queer, too; he was there twice, and once he was dark
and once he was light!"
"How do you know it was the same one?" inquired Gladys curiously.
"Because it was," replied Hinpoha knowingly.
"Maybe he faded," suggested Sahwah, giggling again.
"No, he didn't," replied Hinpoha mysteriously, "because he was light
first and dark afterward!"

Hinpoha's voice rang out like an oracle, and the judicial-looking man in
the seat ahead of them turned around and surveyed the four with a
smile of amusement on his face.
"That man's laughing at us," said Sahwah, feeling terribly foolish. "Quit
telling fortunes, Hinpoha. It's all nonsense, anyhow."
"Maybe you think it's nonsense," returned Hinpoha in an offended tone,
"but they do come true, lots of times. Do you remember, Gladys, the
time I told you you were going to get a letter from a distance, and you
got one from France the very next day?"
"Yes," replied Gladys, "and do you remember the time you predicted I
was going to flunk math at midyears and I took the prize?"
"And do you remember the light man that came into your life,
Hinpoha?" said Sahwah slily.
Hinpoha turned fiery red at this reference to Professor Knoblock and
looked out of the window in confused silence. Sahwah realized that she
was figure-skating on thin ice when she mentioned that subject and
forebore to make any further remarks. A strained silence fell upon the
four. Migwan cast about in her mind for a topic of conversation that
would relieve the tension.
"Has anyone heard from Veronica lately?" she asked.
"I haven't heard from her for several months," replied Sahwah, "but I
suppose she's still in New York. She must be doing great things with
her music. She's given a concert already."
"It's queer about Veronica," continued Sahwah musingly. "Although
she wasn't with us so much I seem to miss her more and more as time
goes on. I often dream I hear her playing her violin." Sahwah's
admiration for Veronica had never waned, although Veronica had never
had what Sahwah described as a "real emotional case" on her.
"Veronica's an alien enemy now," said Gladys in an awed tone.

"Do you think she'll be interred?" asked Hinpoha anxiously.
Sahwah gave a little scream of laughter. "In-terned, not interred," she
corrected. "I hope Veronica isn't ready to be buried yet."
"Well, interned, then," answered Hinpoha, a little piqued at Sahwah's
raillery. "You don't need to call the attention of the whole car to the fact
that I made a little mistake. Did you see that officer over there turn
around and look when you laughed? He's looking yet, and he probably
heard what you said, and is laughing at me in his mind."
Sahwah involuntarily turned around and her eyes met those of the slim,
fair-haired youth in the uniform of a lieutenant of aviation, sitting
several seats beyond them on the other side of the car. For some
unaccountable reason she again felt suddenly shy and dropped her eyes,
while a little feeling of wonder stole over her at her own
embarrassment. Up until that moment, unexplained feelings had been
totally unknown in Sahwah's wholesome and vigorous young life.
There had been nothing bold or offensive about the stranger's glance,
yet there was a certain curious intentness about it that filled Sahwah
with a strange confusion, a vague stirring within her of something
unfamiliar, something unknown. Outwardly there was nothing
remarkable about him, nothing to distinguish him from the thousands
of other lads in khaki that were to be seen everywhere one went, erect,
trim, lovably conceited. Why, then, should the heart of Sahwah the
Sunfish suddenly flutter at this casual meeting of the eyes with