“I didn’t think particularly about naming the camp,” said Wyn, reflectively, “but from the water, with the squall working up behind us, and the last light of the day lingering on this little hill, the name flashed into my mind.”
“What is it?” chorused the others. “Do tell us, Wyn!”
“Green Knoll.”
“Just that?” cried Grace. “‘Green Knoll’? Why! It was green; wasn’t it?”
“I remember how green it seemed from the lake,” added Bess. “It’s not a silly name, either. It means something.”
“I take it all back about ‘Birch Tree Camp,’” declared Frank. “‘Green Knoll.’ There’s a dignity about that–as our assistant principal, Miss Hutchins, would say.”
“It’s a fine name, I think,” admitted Percy Havel, slowly. “I withdraw Camp Cheer. It may not be so cheerful here all the time–especially if we catch smallpox, as Grace says. But it will always be green up here on the knoll.”
“As long as we are here to see it, at least,” agreed Frankie, nodding.
“Say! our Camp Pleasant is swamped!” cried Grace. “What say, Mina? Shall we surrender?”
“Green Knoll sounds very pretty,” agreed the sweet-tempered Mina Everett.