The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill | Page 4

think I
would like very much to know just what my soul's desire is. The worst
of life is not knowing just what you want."
Esther had followed Betty toward the hall. "How funny that sounds to
me," she returned shyly, "because I think the hard part of life is not
having what you want. I know very well. But can't I do something for
you now? Your mother said you were not well and perhaps would not
wish to see me this afternoon, but I could read to you or--"
Betty's irritability returned. "Thank you very much," she returned
coldly, "but I can think of nothing in the world that would amuse me at
present. I simply wish not to freeze, and to save my life I can't get one
of our tiresome maids to answer my bell."
Betty's grand manner had returned, but in spite of her haughtiness the
newcomer persisted. "Do let me make the fire for you. I am only a
wood- gatherer at present, but pretty soon I shall be a real fire-maker,
for I have already been working for two months."
"A wood-gatherer and fire-maker; what extraordinary things a girl was
forced to become at an orphan asylum!" Betty's sympathies were
immediately aroused and her cheeks burned with resentment at the
sudden vision of this girl at her side trudging through the woods, her
back bent under heavy burdens. No wonder her shoulders stooped and
her hands were coarse. Betty slipped her arm through the stranger's.
"No, I won't trouble you to make my fire, but do come into my room
and let us just talk. None of my friends have been in to see me this

afternoon, not even the faithless Polly! They are too busy getting ready
for the end of school to think about poor, ill me." And Betty laughed
gayly at the untruthfulness of this picture of herself.
Once inside the blue room, without asking permission, Esther knelt
straightway down before the brass andirons and with deft fingers
placed a roll of twisted paper under a lattice-like pile of kindling,
arranging three small pine logs in a triangle above it. But before setting
a match to the paper she turned toward the other girl hovering about her
like a butterfly.
"I wonder if you would like me to recite the fire-maker's song?" she
asked. "I haven't the right to say it yet, but it is so lovely that I would
like you to hear it."
Betty stared and laughed. "Do fire-makers have songs?" she demanded.
"How queer that sounds! Perhaps the Indians used to have fire songs
long ago when a fire really meant so much. But I can't imagine a maid's
chanting a song before one's fire in the morning and I don't think I
should like being wakened up by it."
"You would like this one," the other girl persisted.
Little yellow spurts of flame were now creeping forth from between the
sticks, some leaping away into nothingness, others curling and
enfolding them. The paper in the grate crackled noisily as the cold May
wind swept down the chimney with a defiant roar and both girls silently
watched the newly kindled fire with the fascination that is eternal.
Betty had also dropped down on her knees. "What is your song?" she
asked curiously an instant later, raising her hands before her face to let
the firelight shine through.
Esther's head was bent so that her face could not be seen, but the beauty
of her speech was reflected in the other girl's changing expression.
"As fuel is brought to the fire, So I purpose to bring My strength, my
ambition, My heart's desire, My joy And my sorrow To the fire Of

humankind."
Purposely Esther's voice dropped with these last words, and she did not
continue until a hand was placed gently on her shoulder and a voice
urged: "Please go on; what is the 'fire of humankind'?"
"For I will tend As my fathers have tended And my fathers' fathers
Since time began, The fire that is called The love of man for man, The
love of man for God."
At the end, Esther glancing around at the girl beside her was surprised
to see a kind of mist over her gray eyes.
But Betty laughed as she got up to her feet and going over to her table
stooped to pick up the book she had thrown on the floor half an hour
before.
"I might have made my own fire if I had known that song," she said,
switching on the electric light under the rose-colored shade. For the
clouds outside had broken at last, the rain was pouring and the blue
room save for the firelight would have been in darkness.
Betty sat down, putting her