The Camp Fire Girls at School | Page 6

with a growl
fastened his teeth into his neck. Hinpoha rescued her pet and bore him
away to her room, where she shed tears of despair while he licked her
hand sympathetically. Aunt Phoebe's first act was to put Hinpoha into
deep mourning. Hinpoha objected strenuously, but there was no help,
and she went to school swathed from head to foot in black. Nyoda was
wrathful at the sight, for if there was one point she felt strongly about it
was putting children into mourning. Among the gaily dressed girls
Hinpoha stood out like some dark spirit from the underworld, casting a
gloom wherever she went.
"Where is that beautiful vase I brought your mother from the World's
Fair?" asked Aunt Phoebe one day, suddenly missing it.
"It was accidently broken at our last Camp Fire meeting," answered
Hinpoha, with a tightening around her heart when she thought of that
last happy gathering.
"Camp Fire!" said Aunt Phoebe with a snort. "You don't mean to tell
me that you are mixed up in any such foolishness as that?"
"I certainly am," said Hinpoha energetically, "and it isn't foolishness,
either. I've learned more since I have been a Camp Fire Girl than I did
in all the years before."
"Well, you may consider yourself graduated, then," said Aunt Phoebe,
drily, "for I'll have no such nonsense about me. I can teach you all you
need to know outside of what you learn in school."
"Camp Fire always had mother's fullest approval," said Hinpoha darkly.

"I dare say," returned her aunt. "But I want you to understand once for
all that I won't have any girls holding 'meetings' here, to upset the
house and break valuable ornaments."
"But you don't care if I go to them at other girls' houses, do you?" asked
Hinpoha, the fear gripping her that she was to be denied the consolation
of these weekly gatherings with the Winnebagos.
"I don't want you to have anything to do with that Camp Fire business,"
said Aunt Phoebe in a tone of finality, and Hinpoha left the room, her
heart swelling with bitterness. She was too wise to argue the point with
Aunt Phoebe, and resolved to depend on Nyoda to show her the way.
She dried her tears and went down to the living room and began to play
softly on the piano. It had been her mother's piano, the wedding gift of
her father, and it seemed that her mother's spirit hovered over it. It was
the first time she had touched the keys since that awful Wednesday
when the world had been turned into chaos; she had had no heart to
play, but to-day the sound of the music comforted her and her bitter
resentment against her aunt lost some of its sting. She played on, lost in
memories, when suddenly the sharp voice of her aunt brought her back
to earth. "What does this mean?" cried Aunt Phoebe, "playing on the
piano when your father and mother have just died! I never heard of
such a thing! Come away immediately and don't open that piano again
until our period of mourning is over." She closed the piano and locked
it, putting the key into her bag.
Under Aunt Phoebe's management the house soon lost its look of
inviting friendliness. The blinds were always kept drawn, so that even
on the brightest days the rooms had a gloomy appearance. No more
cheerful wood fires crackled and glowed in the grate. They made ashes
on the rugs and were extravagant, as the house was heated by steam.
The bookcases were locked and Hinpoha was forbidden to read fiction,
as this was not proper when one was in mourning. "You will become
acquainted with much pleasant literature reading to me while I
crochet," she said when Hinpoha rose in revolt at this edict. The
"pleasant literature" which Aunt Phoebe was just then perusing was a
History of the Presbyterian Church in eleven volumes, which bored

Hinpoha so it nearly gagged her.
Besides, Aunt Phoebe constantly found fault with Hinpoha's manner of
reading. It was either too loud or not loud enough; either too fast or too
slow, but it was never right. That reading aloud was the last straw to
Hinpoha. After sitting still a whole afternoon getting her school lessons,
she longed to move about after supper, but then Aunt Phoebe expected
her to sit still the entire evening and entertain her with the activities of
the Early Presbytery. After nearly a week of this deadly dullness
Hinpoha was ready to fly. And yet Aunt Phoebe was not conscious that
there was anything wrong in the way she was treating Hinpoha. She
cared for her in her frozen way. She was merely trying to bring her up
in the way