“I don’t think there are any set rules,” replied her companion; “you can do as you please, I guess. But I thought I’d just wash and run down and see if I might help Frieda.”
Already the girls in the other tents were stirring, although there had not been any bugle call to awaken them. When Lily Andrews opened her eyes and casually looked at her companion’s bed, she received a shock to see Ruth Henry sitting on the edge, lacing up her shoes. She and Marjorie had roomed together for so long, it seemed strange to have another girl as partner.
“Hello, Lil!” greeted Ruth. “Have a nice sleep?”
“Yes, but wasn’t it cold, though? I think it was worse than at camp.”
“I suppose that is because we are so close to the water,” remarked Ruth.
Lily reached for her mirror and brush and comb; then proceeded to arrange her hair, sitting up where she was, in bed. Ruth watched her admiringly; Lily was not pretty, but there was something very attractive about her. And Ruth could never forget the fact that she was the sophomore president, or rather, had been, for the year was over now; but the holder of that much desired office would always seem great in her eyes.
“Aren’t you going to wear sneaks?” asked Lily, interrupting the other girl’s reverie.
“No, I thought I’d put my high shoes on today.”
She lifted the flap and peered out of the tent. Not far away she beheld a bright fire, and Frieda Hammer bending over it, busily cooking.
“I smell breakfast!” she said. “The cook’s on the job!”