Camp Fire Girls The at the Seashore Part 4

"I don't believe she meant to insult us a bit," said Dolly. "I don't think she thought much about us. It's just that she has always been brought up to feel a certain way about things, and she couldn't change all at once. A whole lot of girls, while they believed just what she did, and hated the whole idea just as much, would never have dared to say so, when they knew no one agreed with them."

"Yes, it's just as Miss Eleanor said," said Bessie. "She's not a hypocrite, no matter what her other faults are. She's not afraid to say just what she thinks--and that's pretty fine, after all."

"I wish she could hear you," said Marcia, indignantly. "Oh, it's splendid of you, but I can't feel that way, and there's no use pretending. I suppose the real reason I'm so angry is that I'm really very fond of Gladys, and I hate to see her acting this way. She's making a perfect fool of herself, I think."

"But just think of how splendid it will be when she sees she is wrong, Marcia," said Bessie. "Because you want to remember if she's plucky enough to hold out against all her friends this way she will be plucky enough to own up when she sees the truth, too."

"Yes, and she'll be a convert worth making, too," said Dolly. "There's just one thing I'm thinking of, Marcia. Will she stay here? Don't you suppose she'll go home right away? I know I would. I wouldn't want to stay around this beach after what happened at the Council Fire to-night."

They never heard Marcia's answer to that question, for in the darkness, Gladys herself, shaking with anger, rose and confronted them.

"You bet I'm going to stay!" she declared, furiously. "And I'll get even with you, Dolly Ransom, and your nasty old Miss Mercer, and the whole crew of you! Maybe you've been able to set all my friends against me--I'm glad of it!"

"No one is set against you, Gladys," said Marcia, gently.

"Maybe you don't call it that, Marcia Bates, but I've got my own opinion of a lot of girls who call themselves my friends and side against me the way you've done!"

"Why, Gladys, I haven't done a thing--"

"That's just it, you sneak! Why, do you suppose I'd have let them treat you as I was treated to-night? If it had happened to you, and I'd joined before, I'd have got up and thrown their nasty old ring back at them! I don't want their old ring! I've got much prettier ones of my own--gold, and set with sapphires and diamonds!"

"I'm very glad you're going to stay, Gladys!" said Dolly. "I'm sorry I've been cross when I spoke to you lately two or three times, and I hope you'll forgive me. And I think you'll see soon that we're not at all what you think we are in the Camp Fire."

"Oh, you needn't talk that way to me, Dolly Ransom! You can pretend all you like to be a saint, but I've known you too long to swallow all that! You've done just as many mean things as anyone else! And now you stand around and act as if you were ashamed to know me. Just you wait! I'll get even with you, and all the rest of your new friends, if it's the last thing I ever do!"

Bessie's hand reached out for Dolly's. She knew her chum well enough to understand that if Dolly controlled her temper now it would only be by the exercise of the grimmest determination. Sure enough, Dolly's hand was trembling, and Bessie could almost feel the hot anger that was swelling up in her. But Dolly mastered herself n.o.bly.

"You can't make me angry now, Gladys," said Dolly, finally. "You're perfectly right; I've done things that are meaner than anything you did at Lake Dean. And I'm just as sorry for them now as you will be when you understand better."

"Well, you needn't preach to me!" said Gladys, fiercely. "And you can give up expecting me to run away. I'm not a coward, whatever else I may be! And I'd never be able to hold up my head if I thought a lot of common girls had frightened me into running away from this place. I'm going to stay here, and I'm going to have a good time, and you'd better look out for yourselves--that's all I can say! Maybe I know more about you than you think."

And then she turned on her heel and left them.

"Whew!" said Marcia. "I don't see how you kept your temper, Dolly. If she'd said half as much to me as she did to you, I never could have stood it, I can tell you! Whatever did she mean by what she said just then about knowing more than we thought?"

"I don't know," said Dolly, rather anxiously. "But look here, Marcia, I might as well tell you now. There's likely to be a good deal of excitement here."

"Yes," said Bessie, rather bitterly. "And it's all my fault--mine and Zara's, that is."

"I don't see what you can mean," said Marcia, mystified.

"Well, it's quite a long story, but I really think you'd better know all about it, Marcia," said Dolly.

And so, with occasional help from Bessie herself, when Dolly forgot something, or when Bessie's ideas disagreed with hers, Dolly poured the story of the adventures of Bessie and Zara since their flight from Hedgeville into Marcia's ears.

"Why, I never heard of such a thing!" Marcia exclaimed, when the story was told. "So that fire last night wasn't an accident at all?"

"We're quite sure it wasn't, Marcia. And don't you think it looks as if we were right?"

"It certainly does, and I think it's dreadful, Dolly--just dreadful. Oh, Bessie, I am so sorry for you!"

She threw her arms about Bessie impulsively and kissed her, while Dolly, delighted, looked on.

"Doesn't it make you love her more than ever?" she said. "And Bessie is so foolish about it sometimes. She seems to think that girls won't want to have anything to do with her, because she hasn't had a home and parents like the rest of us--or like most of us."

"That is awfully silly, Bessie," said Marcia. "As if it was your fault! People are going to like you for what you are, and for the way you behave--not on account of things that you really haven't a thing to do with. Sensible people, I mean. Of course, if they're like Gladys--but then most people aren't, I think."

"Of course they're not!" said Dolly, stoutly. "And, besides, I'm just sure that Bessie is going to find out about her father and mother some day. I don't believe Mr. Holmes would be taking all the trouble he has about her unless there were something very surprising about her history that we don't know anything about. Do you, Marcia?"

"Of course not! He's got something up his sleeve. Probably she is heiress to a fortune, or something like that, and he wants to get hold of it. He's a very rich man, isn't he, Dolly?"

"Yes. You know he's the owner of a great big department store at home. And Bessie says that it can't be any question of money that makes him so anxious to get hold of her and of Zara, because he has so much already."

"H'm! I guess people who have money like to make more, Dolly. I've heard my father talk about that. He says they're never content, and that's one reason why so many men work themselves to death, simply because they haven't got sense enough to stop and rest when they have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives."

"That's another thing I've told her. And she says that can't be the reason, but just the same she never suggests a better one to take its place."

"Look here," said Marcia, thoughtfully. "If Mr. Holmes is spending so much money, doesn't it cost a whole lot to stop him from doing what he's trying to do, whatever that is? I'm just thinking--my father has ever so much, you know, and I know if I told him, he'd be glad to spend whatever was needed--"

Bessie flushed unhappily.

"Oh, that's one thing that is worrying me terribly!" she cried. "I just know that Miss Eleanor and Mr. Jamieson must have spent a terrible lot on my affairs already, and I don't see how I'm ever going to pay them back! And if I ever mention it, Miss Eleanor gets almost angry, and says I mustn't talk about it at all, even think of it."

"Why, of course you mustn't. It would be awful to think that those horrid people were able to get hold of you and make you unhappy just because they had money and you didn't, Bessie."

And Dolly echoed her exclamation. Naturally enough, Marcia, whose parents were among the richest people in the state, thought little of money, and Dolly, who had always had plenty, even though her family was by no means as rich as Marcia's, felt the same way about the matter. Neither of them valued money particularly; but Bessie, because she had lived ever since she could remember in a family where the pinch of actual poverty was always felt, had a much truer appreciation of the value of money.

She did not want to possess money, but she had a good deal of native pride, and it worried her constantly to think that her good friends were spending money that she could see no prospect, however remote, of repaying.

"I wish there was some way to keep me from having to take all the money they spend on me," she said, wistfully. "As soon as we get back to the city, I'm going to find some work to do, so that I can support myself."

She half expected Marcia to a.s.sail that idea, for it seemed to her that, nice as she was, she belonged, like Gladys Cooper, to the cla.s.s that looked down on work and workers. But to her surprise, Marcia gave a cry of admiration.

"It's splendid for you to feel that way, Bessie!" she said. "But, just the same, I believe you'll have to wait until things are more settled. It would be so much easier for Mr. Holmes to get hold of you if you were working, you know."

"She's going to come and stay with me just as long as she wants to," said Dolly. "And, anyhow, I really believe things are going to be settled for her. Perhaps I've heard something, too!"

CHAPTER VII.

THE CHALLENGE.

When Bessie and Dolly returned to their own camp they found Eleanor Mercer waiting for them, and as soon as she was alone with them, she did something that, for her, was very rare. She asked them about their talk with Marcia Bates.

"You know that as a rule I don't interfere," she said. "Unless there is something that makes it positively necessary for me to intrude myself, I leave you to yourselves."

"Why, we would have told you all about it, anyhow, Miss Eleanor," said Dolly, surprised.

"Yes, but even so, I want you to know that I'm sorry to feel that I should ask you to tell me. As a rule, I would rather let you girls work all these things out by yourselves, even if I see very plainly that you are making mistakes. I think you can sometimes learn more by doing a thing wrong, provided that you are following your own ideas, than by doing it right when you are simply doing what someone else tells you."

"I see what you mean, Miss Eleanor," said Bessie. "But this time we really haven't done anything. We saw Gladys, too, and--"

She went on to tell of their talk with Marcia and of the unpleasant episode created by Gladys when she had overheard them talking.

"I think you've done very well indeed," said Eleanor, with a sigh of relief, when she had heard the story. "I was so afraid that you would lose your temper, Dolly. Not that I could really have blamed you if you had, but, oh, it's so much better that you didn't. So Gladys has decided to stay, has she?"

"Yes," said Dolly. "But Marcia seemed to think Miss Turner might make her go home."

"She won't," said Eleanor. "She was thinking of it, but I have had a talk with her, and we both decided that that wouldn't do much good. It might save us some trouble, but it wouldn't do Gladys any good, and, after all, she's the one we've got to consider."

Dolly didn't say anything, but it was plain from her look that she did not understand.

"What I mean is," Eleanor went on, "that there's a chance here for us to make a real convert--one who will count. It's easy enough to make girls understand our Camp Fire idea when they want to like it, and feel sure that they're going to. The hard cases are the girls like Gladys, who have a prejudice against the Camp Fire without really knowing anything at all about it. And if the Camp Fire idea is the fine, strong, splendid thing we all believe, why, this is a good time to prove it. If it is, Gladys won't be able to hold out against it."

"That's what I've thought from the first, Miss Eleanor," said Bessie. "And I'm sure she will like us better presently."

"Well, if she is willing to stay, she is to stay," said Eleanor. "And she is to be allowed to do everything the other girls do, except, of course, she can't actually take part in a Council Fire until she's a member. We don't want her to feel that she is being punished, and Miss Turner is going to try to make her girls treat her just as if nothing had happened. That's what I want our Manasquan girls to do, too."

"They will, then, if I've got anything to say," declared Dolly, vehemently. "And I guess I've got more reason to be down on her than any of the others except Bessie. So if I'm willing to be nice to her, I certainly don't see why the others should hesitate."

"Remember this, Dolly. You're willing to be nice to her now, but she may make it pretty hard. You're going to have a stiff test of your self-control and your temper for the next few days. When people are in the wrong and know it, but aren't ready to admit it and be sorry, they usually go out of their way to be nasty to those they have injured--"

"Oh, I don't care what she says or does now," said Dolly. "If I could talk to her to-night without getting angry, I think I'm safe. I never came so near to losing my temper without really doing it in my whole life before."

"Well, that's fine, Dolly. Keep it up. Remember this is pretty hard for poor Miss Turner. Here she is, just starting in as a Camp Fire Guardian, and at the very beginning she has this trouble! But if she does make Gladys come around, it will be a great victory for her, and I want you and all of our girls to do everything you can to help."

Then with a hearty good-night she turned away, and it was plain that she was greatly relieved by what Bessie and Dolly had told her.

"Well, I don't know what you're going to do, Bessie," said Dolly, "but I'm going to turn in and sleep! I'm just beginning to realize how tired I am."

"I'm tired, too. We've really had enough to make us pretty tired, haven't we?"

And this time they were able to sleep through the whole night without interruption. The peace and calm of Plum Beach were disturbed by nothing more noisy than gentle waves, and the whole camp awoke in the morning vastly refreshed.

The sun shone down gloriously, and the cloud-less sky proclaimed that it was to be a day fit for any form of sport. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea, dying away to nothing sometimes, and the water inside the sand bar was so smooth and inviting that half a dozen of the girls, with Dolly at their head, scampered in for a plunge before breakfast.

"They're swimming over at the other camp, too," cried Dolly. "See? Oh, I bet we'll have some good times with them. We ought to be able to have all sorts of fun in the water."

"Aren't there any boats here beside that old flat bottom skiff?" asked Bessie.

"Aren't there? Just wait till you see! If we hadn't had all that excitement yesterday Captain Salters would have brought the Eleanor over. He will to-day, too, and then you'll see!"

"What will I see, Dolly? Remember I haven't been here before, like you."

"Oh, she's the dandiest little boat, Bessie--a little sloop, and as fast as a steamboat, if she's handled right."

"Now we'll never hear the end of her," said Margery Burton, with a comical gesture of despair. "You've touched the b.u.t.ton, Bessie, and Dolly will keep on telling us about the Eleanor, and how fast she is, until someone sits on her!"

"You're jealous, Margery," laughed Dolly, in high good humor. "Margery's pretty clever, Bessie, and when it comes to cooking--my!" She smacked her lips loudly, as if to express her sense of how well Margery could cook. "But she can't sail a boat!"

"Here's Captain Salters now--and he's towing the Eleanor, all right, Dolly," cried one of the other girls.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Dolly. "Bessie, you've never been in a sail boat, have you? I'll have to show you how everything is done, and then we'll have some bully fine times together. You'll love it, I know."

"She won't if she's inclined to be seasick," said Margery. "The trouble with Dolly is that she can never have enough of a good thing. The higher the wind, the happier Dolly is. She'll keep on until the boat heels away over, and until you think you're going over the next minute--and she calls that having a good time!"

"Well, I never heard you begging me to quit, Margery Burton!" said Dolly. "You're an old fraud--that's what you are! You pretend you are terribly frightened, and all the time you're enjoying it just as much as I am. I wish there was some way we could have a race. That's where the real fun comes in with a sail boat."

"You could get all the racing you want over at Bay City, Dolly. The yacht club there has races every week, I think."

"But Miss Eleanor would never let me sail in one of those races, Margery. I guess she's right, too. I may be pretty good for a girl, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have a chance with those men."

Margery pretended to faint.

"Listen to that, will you?" she exclaimed. "Here's Dolly actually saying that someone might be able to do something better than she could! I'll believe in almost anything after that!"

"Well, you can laugh all you like," said Dolly, with spirit. "But if we should have a race, I'll be captain, and I know some people who won't get a chance to be even on the crew. They'll feel pretty sorry they were so fresh, I guess, when they have to stay ash.o.r.e cooking dinner while I and my crew are out in the sloop!"

Then from the beach came the primitive call to breakfast--made by the simple process of pounding very hard on the bottom of a frying pan with a big tin spoon. That ended the talk about Dolly's qualifications as a yacht captain, and there was a wild rush to the beach, and to the tents, since those who had been in for an early swim could not sit down to breakfast in their wet bathing suits. But no one took any great length of time to dress, since here the utmost simplicity ruled in clothes.

"Well, what's the programme for to-day, girls?" asked Eleanor, after the meal was over.

"Each for herself!" cried half a dozen voices. And a broken chorus rose in agreement.

"I want to fis.h.!.+" cried one.

"A long walk for me!" said another.

"I'd like to make up a party to go over to Bay City and buy things. We haven't been near a store for weeks!" suggested another.

"All right," said Eleanor. "Everyone can do exactly what she likes between the time we finish clearing up after lunch and dinner. I think we'll have the same rule we did at Long Lake--four girls attend to the camp work each day, while the other eight do as they like. You can draw lots or arrange it among yourselves, I don't care."

"Yes, that's a fine arrangement," said Dolly. "It's a little harder for the four who work than it would be if we all pitched in, but no one really has to work any harder, for all that."

"It's even in the long run," said Eleanor. "And it gives some of you a chance to do things that call for a whole afternoon. All agreed to that, are you?"

It was Eleanor's habit, whenever possible, to submit such minor details of camp life to a vote of the girls. Her authority, of course, was complete. If she gave an order, it had to be obeyed, and she had the right, if she decided it was best, to send any or all of the girls home. But--and many guardians find it a good plan--she preferred to give the girls a good deal of lat.i.tude and real independence.

One result was that, whenever she did give a positive order, it was obeyed unquestioningly. The girls knew by experience that usually she was content to suggest things, and even agree to methods that she would not herself have chosen, and, as they were not accustomed to receiving positive orders on all sorts of subjects, they understood without being told that there was a good reason for those that were issued. Another result, of course, and the most important, was that the girls, growing used to governing themselves, grew more self-reliant, and better fitted to cope with emergencies.

The girls were still was.h.i.+ng the breakfast dishes when Marcia Bates walked along the beach and was greeted with a merry hail by Dolly and the others.

"I'm here as an amba.s.sador or something like that," she announced. "That little sloop out there is yours, isn't she?"