The Camp Fire Girls at School | Page 4

everything we do either
fulfills or breaks the Law. What do you say if we register our
commendable doings in colors, but record the event in black every time
we break the Law?"

The girls thought this would be a fascinating game, and Sahwah
remarked that she must send to the Outfitting Company for a bunch of
black beads directly, as she had only a very few left.
"It's a good thing we didn't keep this record last summer," said Gladys
with a thoughtful look in her eyes, "or mine would have been black
from one end to the other."
"It wouldn't, either," said Sahwah vehemently. "You did more for us in
the end than we ever did for you. And my sins were as scarlet as yours,
every bit."
Since that terrible day in camp Gladys seemed to have been made over,
and never once reverted to her old selfishness and superciliousness, so
that she now had the love and esteem of every one of the Winnebagos.
All mention of her old short-comings was quickly silenced by Sahwah,
who now adored her, heart and soul. Gladys's entrance into the public
school after two years at Miss Russell's had caused quite a stir among
the girls of the neighborhood, who in times past had been wont to
consider her proud and haughty, but her simple, unaffected manner
quickly won for her a secure place in the affections of all. Teachers and
scholars alike loved her.
Sahwah was still counting up her own misdemeanors at camp when the
Evans's automobile came for Gladys, and reluctantly all the girls
prepared to go home. It always seemed harder to break away from
Hinpoha's house than from any of the others'. In spite of the rich
furnishings it had a cozy, homey atmosphere of being used from one
end to the other, and no guest, however humble, ever felt awkward or
out of place there. Thus it usually happens that when people are entirely
at ease in their own surroundings, they soon make others feel the same
way too.
CHAPTER II.
A SUDDEN MISFORTUNE.
As the day drew near for the return of her mother and father Hinpoha

went all over the house from garret to cellar seeing that everything was
put to rights. She and the other Winnebagos took a trip into the country
for bittersweet to decorate the fireplace in the library and in her father's
study upstairs. With pardonable pride she arranged a little exhibition of
the Craft work she had done in camp and the sketches she had made of
the lake and hills. On the table in her mother's room she placed a work
basket she had made of reed and lined with silk.
"Gracious sakes, child," said her aunt, from her rocking chair by the
front window of the living-room, "what a fuss you are going to! One
would think it was your Aunt Phoebe who was coming instead of your
mother and father. They'll be just as glad to see you if the house isn't as
neat as a pin from top to bottom." And Aunt Grace resumed her rocking
and her novel, as unconcerned about the imminent return of the
travelers as if it were nothing more than the daily visit of the milkman.
Nothing short of an earthquake would ever shake Aunt Grace out of her
settled complacency.
Hinpoha went happily on, seeing that every tack and screw was in place,
and arranging the books in the cases to correspond to her father's
catalog, for they had become sadly mixed during his absence. She even
took out a volume of his favorite essays and pored over them diligently
so that she might discuss them with him and show that she had used
some of her time to good advantage. She straightened out her bureau
drawers and mended all her clothes and stockings. When everything
was in order she viewed the result with a happy feeling at the pleasure
it would give her mother when she saw it. Hinpoha's most prominent
trait in times past had not been neatness.
Nyoda, who had been called in to make a final inspection before
Hinpoha was satisfied, wondered if all the girls were "seeking beauty"
as earnestly as Hinpoha was. She envied Hinpoha the homecoming of
her mother from the bottom of her heart. This feeling was particularly
strong one afternoon as she sat in the school room after the close of
school, looking over some English papers. It was the anniversary of the
death of her mother and she sat recalling little incidents of her
childhood before this best of chums had been taken away. As she sat

there half dreaming she heard voices in the hall before her door.
"Have you heard the latest?" asked one voice.
"No," said the