Joanne obeyed, but as she was mounting the stairs she heard her grandmother say: “Don’t you think you were a little hard on her, Gregory?”
Her grandfather’s reply was: “Not a bit of it; what the child needs is stimulant, not sentimental sympathy.”
That was the end of that bout, but Joanne never forgot it, and buckled on her armor more firmly than ever in order to meet the next fray in a more soldierly spirit.
CHAPTER X
UP THE RIVER
THE first of July saw Sunflower Troop packed up and ready for the month up the river. This time they did not go by way of the canal, and it was too warm to think of a long hike, so fourteen girls were piled into two motor cars, a third taking Miss Dodge and Miss Chesney with some of the supplies. It was a very merry company, the only regret being that two of the troop were not able to come, as they had gone the month before to Maine. Although Unc’ Aaron was on hand he had been given to understand that the girls must be left to their own devices, though it must be said that he obeyed these instructions with great reluctance.
The sun was still high when they arrived, for the automobiles must return to the city. There were little flickering shadows upon the grassy plot in front of the lodge, and sparkling gleams upon the river. The season of bird song was over, but the wind whispering in the trees, the murmur of the river as it tumbled over stony shallows, the hum of bees in the clover broke the absolute quiet.
For a while there was much scurrying around. Eight of the party had been told off to occupy the bungalow; for the rest a couple of tents were set up. Joanne begged to be one of the tent-holders. “I’ve always longed to sleep in a tent,” she averred, “do, please let me.” So she, with Claudia, Winnie and Esther Rhodes, was permitted to set up her belongings in one of the tents, ranging the photographs of her parents, her grandparents, Mrs. Marriott and Chico side by side as decorations, and stowing away the articles in her kit as best she could.
Then the routine of the camp began. Miss Dodge issued her orders. No one was to go out of bounds without permission. The farm was big enough and the woods extensive enough to allow of all the room for rambling that might be required. The bugle calls would tell them when to get up, when meals were ready, and so on. Each morning the girls for the various duties of the day were appointed. No one was to speak after lights were out at night. At first Joanne found these rules rather difficult to obey, but she soon fell into line with the rest of the girls, and at last had no desire to chatter after taps had sounded, for, tired out by the day’s activities, she was ready to drop off as soon as her head touched the pillow, and could scarcely have distinguished the notes of the bugle from the hooting of an owl or the murmur of the river.
Every morning Pablo appeared with Chico saddled and bridled so that whoso would could take a ride. Every morning, too, appeared Unc’ Aaron to ask if “de ladies had any requirements.” They seldom had, but once in a while they humored him by pretending to want his services.
“Dey sutt’nly is de mos’ ondependent an’ onres’less young ladies uvver I see,” he confided to Joanne. “Don’t ’pear to me lak dey still a minute, dey at it mo’nin’ an’ night. Dey runs aroun’ lak little mices, fus’ hyar den dere. Is dey do dat way in de city, Miss Jo? Is dey cook an’ wash an’ i’on? Don’t none o’ dey mas keep nobody to do de wuk?”