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  CHAPTER III

  Round the Camp-fire

  It was the first Saturday of the term. So far the girls had been keptbusily occupied settling down to work in their fresh forms, and tryingto grow accustomed to Miss Teddington's new time-tables. Now, however,they were free to relax and enjoy themselves in any way they chose. Somewere playing tennis, some had gone for a walk with Miss Moseley, a fewwere squatting frog-like on boulders in the midst of the stream, andothers strolled under the trees in the grove.

  "Thank goodness the weather's behaving itself!" said Mary Acton, who,with a few other members of the Lower Fifth, was sitting on the trunk ofa fallen oak. "Do you remember last council? It simply poured. Thething's no fun if one can't have a real fire."

  "It'll burn first-rate to-night," returned Lizzie Lonsdale. "There's alittle wind, and the wood'll be dry."

  "That reminds me I haven't found my faggot yet," said Beth Broadwayeasily.

  "Girl alive! Then you'd better go and look for one, or you'll be all ina scramble at the last!"

  "Bother! I'm too comfy to move."

  "Nice Wood-gatherer you'll look if you come empty-handed!"

  "I'd appropriate half your lot first, Lizzikins!"

  "Would you, indeed? I'd denounce you, and you'd lose your rank and bedegraded to a candidate again."

  "Oh, you mean, stingy miser!"

  "Not at all. It's the wise and foolish virgins over again. I shan't haveenough for myself and you. I've a lovely little stack--just enough forone--reposing--no, I'd better not tell you where. Don't look so hopeful.You're not to be trusted."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Rona Mitchell, who had wandered upto the group. "Why are some of you picking up sticks? I saw a girl overthere with quite a bundle just now. You might tell me."

  So far Rona had not been well received in her own form, IV B. She wasolder than her class-mates, and they, instead of attempting to initiateher into the ways of the Woodlands girls on this holiday afternoon, hadscuttled off and left her to fend for herself. She looked such an odd,wistful, lonely figure that Lizzie Lonsdale's kind heart smote her. Shepushed the other girls farther along the tree-trunk till they made agrudging space for the new-comer.

  "I'm a good hand at camp-fires, if you want any help," continued Rona,seating herself with alacrity. "I've made 'em by the dozen at home, andcooked by them too. Just let me know where you want it, and I'll set towork."

  "You wouldn't be allowed," said Beth bluntly. "This fire is a veryspecial thing. Only Wood-gatherers may bring the fuel. No one else iseligible."

  "Why on earth not?"

  "Oh, I can't bother to explain now! It would take too long. You'll findout to-night. Girls, I'm going in!"

  "Turn up here at dusk if you want to know, and bring a cup with you,"suggested Lizzie, with a half-ashamed effort at friendliness, as shefollowed her chums.

  "You bet I'll turn up! Rather!"

  That evening, just after sunset, little groups of girls began to collectround an open green space in the glade. They came quietly and with acertain sense of discipline. A stranger would have noticed that if anyloud tone or undue hilarity made itself heard, it was instantly andfirmly repressed by one or two who seemed in authority. That the meetingwas more in the nature of a convention than a mere pleasure-gatheringwas evident both from the demeanour of the assemblage and from thevarious badges pinned on the girls' coats. No teacher was present, butthere was an air of general expectancy, as if the coming of somebodywere awaited. To the pupils at The Woodlands this night's ceremony was avery special occasion, for it was the autumn reunion of the Camp-fireLeague, an organization which, originally of American birth, had beenintroduced at the instigation of Miss Teddington, and had taken greatroot in the school. Any girl was eligible as a candidate, but before shecould gain admission to even the initial rank she had to prove herselfworthy of the honour of membership, and pass successfully through hernovitiate.

  The organizer and leader of the branch which to-night was to celebrateits third anniversary was a certain Mrs. Arnold, a charming youngAmerican lady who lived in the neighbourhood. She had been anenthusiastic supporter of the League in Pennsylvania before hermarriage, and was delighted to pass on its traditions to Britishschoolgirls. Her winsome personality made her a prime favourite at TheWoodlands, where her influence was stronger even than she imagined. MissTeddington, though it was she who had asked Mrs. Arnold to institute andtake charge of the meetings, had the discretion to keep out of theLeague herself, realizing that the presence of teachers might be arestraint, and that the management was better left in the hands of atrustworthy outsider.

  To become an authorized Camp-fire member was an ambition with most ofthe girls, and spurred many on to greater efforts than they wouldotherwise have attempted. All looked forward to the meetings, and therecould be no greater punishment for certain offences than a temporarywithdrawal of League privileges.

  This September, after the long summer holiday, the reunion seemed ofeven more than ordinary importance.

  The sun had set, the last gleam of the afterglow had faded, and theglade had grown full of dim shadows by the time everybody was present inthe grove. The gentle rustle of the leafy boughs overhead, and thepersistent tumbling rush of the stream, seemed like a faint orchestralaccompaniment of Nature for the ceremonial.

  "Is it a Quakers' Meeting or a Freemasons' Lodge? You're all very mum,"asked Rona, whom curiosity had led out with the others.

  "Sh-sh! We're waiting for our 'Guardian of the Fire'," returned Ulyth,trying to suppress the loudness of the high-pitched voice. "Mrs.Arnold's generally very punctual. Oh, there! I believe I hear herringing her bicycle bell now. I'm going down the field to meet her."

  Ulyth regarded Mrs. Arnold with that intense adoration which a girl offifteen often bestows on a woman older than herself. She ran now throughthe wood, hoping she might be in time to catch her idol on the drive andhave just a few precious moments with her before she was joined by theothers. There were many things she wanted to pour into her friend'sready ears, but she knew it would be impossible to monopolize her assoon as the rest of the girls knew of her arrival. She fled as on wings,therefore, and had the supreme satisfaction of being the first in thefield. Mrs. Arnold, young, very fair, graceful, and golden-haired,looked a picture in her blue cycling costume as she leaned her machineagainst a tree and greeted her enthusiastic admirer.

  "Oh, you darling! I've such heaps to tell you!" began Ulyth, claspingher tightly by the arm. "Rona Mitchell has come, and she's the mostawful creature! I never was so disappointed in my life. Don't yousympathize with me, when I expected her to be so ripping? She's absolutebackwoods!"

  "Yes, I've heard all about her. Poor child! She must have had a strangetraining. It's time indeed she began to learn something."

  "She's not learned anything in New Zealand. Oh, her voice will justgrate on you! And her manners! She's hopeless! Everything she does andsays is wrong. And to think she's been foisted on to me, of all people!"

  "Poor child!" repeated Mrs. Arnold. ("Which of us does she mean?"thought Ulyth.) "She's evidently raw material. Every diamond needspolishing. What an opportunity for a Torch-bearer!"

  Ulyth dropped her friend's arm suddenly. It was not at all the answershe had expected. Moreover, at least a dozen girls had come running upand were claiming their chief's attention. In a species of triumphantprocession Mrs. Arnold was escorted into the glade and installed on herthrone of state, a seat made of logs and decorated with ferns. Everyoneclustered round to welcome her, and for the moment she was the centre ofan enthusiastic crowd. Ulyth followed more slowly. She was feelingdisturbed and put out. What did Mrs. Arnold mean? Surely not----? Asudden thought had flashed into her mind but she thrust it awayindignantly. Oh no, that was quite impossible! It was outrageous ofanybody to make the suggestion. And yet--and yet--the uneasy voice thathad been haunting her for the last four days began to speak with evenmore vehemence. With a sigh of relief she heard the signal given for"Attention", and cast
the matter away from her for the moment. Every eyewas fixed on their leader. The ceremony was about to begin.

  Mrs. Arnold rose, and in her clear, sweet voice proclaimed:

  "The Guardian of the Fire calls on the Wood-gatherers to bring theirfuel."

  At once a dozen girls came forward, each dragging a tolerably largebundle of brushwood. They deposited these in a circle, saluted, andretired.

  "Fire-makers, do your work!" commanded the leader.

  Eight girls responded, Ulyth among the number, and seizing thebrushwood, they built it deftly into a pile. All stood round, waiting insilence while their chief struck a match and applied a light to somedried leaves and bracken that had been placed beneath. The flame rose uplike a scarlet ribbon, and in a few moments the dry fuel was ablaze andcrackling. The gleam lighting up the glade displayed a picturesquescene. The boles of the trees might have been the pillars in someancient temple, with the branches for roof. Close by the cascade of thestream leapt white against a background of dim darkness. The harvestmoon, full and golden, was rising behind the crest of Cwm Dinas. An owlflew hooting from the wood higher up the glen. Mrs. Arnold stood waitinguntil the bonfire was well alight, then she turned to the expectantgirls.

  "I've no need to tell most of you why we have met here to-night; but forthe benefit of a few who are new-comers to The Woodlands I should likebriefly to explain the objects of the Camp-fire League. The purpose ofthe organization is to show that the common things of daily life are thechief means of beauty, romance, and adventure, to cultivate the outdoorhabit, and to help girls to serve the community--the larger home--aswell as the individual home. In these ultra-modern times we mustespecially devote ourselves to the service of the country, and try byevery means in our power to make our League of some national use. Firstlet us repeat together the rules of the Camp-fire League:

  "'1. Seek beauty. 2. Give service. 3. Pursue knowledge. 4. Be trustworthy. 5. Hold on to health. 6. Glorify work. 7. Be happy.'

  "Seeking beauty includes more than looking for superficial adornment.Beauty is in all life, in Nature, in people, in the love of one's heart,in virtue and a radiant disposition. The value of service dependslargely upon the attitude of mind of the one rendering it. Joy in theperformance of some needed service in behalf of parent, teacher,friend, or country constitutes a part of the very essence of goodness,and multiplies the good already abiding in the heart. This is the thirdanniversary of the founding of a branch of the League at The Woodlands.So far the work has been very encouraging, and I am glad to say thatto-night we have candidates eligible for all three ranks. It shall nowbe the business of the meeting formally to admit them. Candidates forWood-gatherers, present yourselves!"

  Six of the younger girls came forward and saluted.

  "Can you repeat, and will you promise to obey, the seven rules of theCamp-fire law?"

  Each responded audibly in the affirmative.

  "Then you are admitted to the initial rank of Wood-gatherers, you areawarded the white badge of service, and may sign your names as acceptedmembers of the League."

  The six retired to make way for a higher grade, and eight other girlsstepped into the firelight.

  "Candidates for Fire-makers, you have passed three months with goodcharacters as Wood-gatherers, and you have proved your ability to renderfirst aid, keep accounts, tie knots, and prepare and serve a simplemeal; you have each committed to memory some good poem, and haveacquainted yourself with the career of some able, public-spirited woman.Having thus shown your wish to serve the community, repeat theFire-maker's desire."

  And all together the eight girls chanted:

  "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 human kind. 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."

  Mrs. Arnold said a few kind words to each as she pinned on their redbadges. Only novices who had stood the various tests with credit wereraised to the honour of the second rank. Those who had failed mustperforce continue as Wood-gatherers for another period of three months.

  There remained one further and higher rank, only attainable after sixmonths' ardent and trustworthy service as Fire-makers. To-night threegirls were to be admitted to its privileges, and Helen Cooper, DorisDeane, and Ulyth Stanton presented themselves. With grave faces theyrepeated the Torch-bearer's desire:

  "That light which has been given to me I desire to pass undimmed to others."

  Ulyth kissed Mrs. Arnold's pretty hand as the long-coveted yellow badgewas fastened on to her dress, side by side with the Union Jack. She wasso glad to be a Torch-bearer at last. She had become a candidate whenthe League was first founded three years ago, and all that time she hadbeen slowly working towards the desired end of the third rank. One ortwo slips had hindered her progress, but last term she had made a veryspecial effort, and it was sweet to meet with her reward. Torch-bearerswere mostly to be found among the Sixth and Upper Fifth; she was theonly girl in V B who had won so high a place. She touched the yellowribbon tenderly. It meant so much to her.

  Now that the serious business of the meeting was over, the fun was aboutto begin. The big camp-kettle was produced and filled at the stream, andthen set to boil upon the embers. Cups and spoons made their appearance.Cocoa and biscuits were to be the order of the evening, followed by asmany songs, dances, and games as time permitted. Squatting on the grass,the girls made a circle round their council-fire. Marjorie Earnshaw, oneof the Sixth, had brought her guitar, and struck the strings every nowand then as an earnest of the music she intended to bring from it lateron. Everybody was in a jolly mood, and inclined to laugh at any pun,however feeble. Mrs. Arnold, always bright and animated, surpassedherself, and waxed so amusing that the circle grew almost hysterical.The Wood-gatherers, whose office it was to mix the cocoa, supplied cupafter cup, and refilled the kettle so often that they ventured to airthe time-honoured joke that the stream would run dry, for which ancientchestnut they were pelted with pebbles.

  When at last nobody could even pretend to be thirsty any longer, thecups were rinsed in the pool and stacked under a tree, and the concertcommenced. Part-songs and catches sounded delightful in the open air,and solos, sung to the accompaniment of Marjorie's guitar, were equallyeffective. The girls roared the choruses to popular national ditties,and special favourites were repeated again and again. Severalstep-dances were executed, and had a weird effect in the unsteady lightof the waning fire. Mrs. Arnold, who was a splendid elocutionist, gave arecitation on an incident in the American War, and was enthusiasticallyencored. The moon had risen high in the sky, and was peeping through thetree-tops as if curious to see who had invaded so sylvan a spot as theglade. The silver beams caught the ripples of the stream and made theshadows seem all the darker.

  It was a glorious beginning for the new term, as everybody agreed, andan earnest of the fun that was in store later on.

  "We shan't be able to camp out next meeting, but we'll have high jinksin the hall," purred Beth Broadway.

  "Yes; Mrs. Arnold says she has a lovely programme for the winter, andwe're to have candles instead of fuel," agreed Lizzie Lonsdale, who hadbeen raised that evening to the rank of Fire-maker.

  "Trust Mrs. Arnold to find something new for us to do!" murmured Ulyth,looking fondly in the direction of her ideal.

  "My gracious, I call this meeting no end!" piped a cheerful voice in herear; and Rona, smiling with all-too-obtrusive friendliness, plumped downby her side. "You've good times here, and no mistake! I think I'll be acandidate myself next, if that's the game to play. You're ahigh-and-mighty one, aren't you? Let's have a look at your badge!"

  "If you dare to touch it!" flared Ulyth, putting up her hand to guardher cherished token.

  "Why, I wouldn't do it any harm, I promise you; I wouldn't finge
r it! Itmeans something, doesn't it? I didn't quite catch what it was. You mighttell me. How'm I ever to get to know if you won't?"

  Rona's clear blue eyes, unconsciously wistful, looked straight intoUlyth's. The latter sprang to her feet without a word. The force of herown motto seemed suddenly to be revealed to her. She rushed away intothe shadow of the trees to think it over for herself.

  "That light which has been given to me I desire to pass undimmed to others."

  Those were the words she had repeated so earnestly less than an hourago. And she was already about to make them a mockery! Yes, that waswhat Mrs. Arnold had meant. She had known it all the time, but she wouldnot acknowledge it even to her innermost heart. Was this what wasrequired from a Torch-bearer--to pass on her own refinement and cultureto a girl whose crudities offended every particle of her fastidioustaste? Ulyth sat down on a stone and wept hot, bitter, rebellious tears.She understood only too well why she had been so miserable for the lastthree days. She had disliked Miss Bowes for hinting that she was notkeeping her word, and had told herself that she was a much-tried andill-used person.

  "I must do it, I must, or fail at the very beginning!" she sobbed. "Iknow what Mother would say. It's got to be; if for nothing else, for thesake of the school. A Torch-bearer mustn't shirk and break her pledge.Oh, how I shall loathe it, hate it! Ulyth Stanton, do you realize whatyou're undertaking? Your whole term's going to be spoilt."

  The big bell in the tower was clanging its summons to return, withshort, impatient strokes. Everybody joined hands in a circle round theashes of the camp-fire, to sing in a low chant the good-night song ofthe League and "God Save the Queen". Mr. Arnold, who had come to fetchhis wife, was sounding his hooter as a signal on the drive. Theevening's fun was over. Regretfully the girls collected cups, spoons,and kettle, and made their way back to the house.

  On Sunday morning Ulyth, with a very red face, marched into the study,and announced:

  "Miss Bowes, I've been having a tussle. One-half of me said: 'Don'thave Rona in your room at any price!' and the other half said: 'Let herstop!' I've decided to keep her."

  "I knew you would, when you'd thought it over," beamed Miss Bowes.

  "Are all New Zealanders the same?" asked Ulyth. "I've not met onebefore."

  "Certainly not. Most of them are quite as cultured and up-to-date asourselves. There are splendid schools in New Zealand, and excellentopportunities for study of every kind. Poor Rona, unfortunately, has hadto live on a farm far away from civilization, and her education andwelfare in every respect seem to have been utterly neglected. Don't takeher as a type of New Zealand! But she'll soon improve if we're allprepared to help her. I'm glad you're ready to be her real friend."

  "I'll try my best!" sighed Ulyth.