After dinner the girls strolled to their cabins for rest hour.
“Wake me up, Hilary,” said Lilian, “in time to write my letter home and finish my verses for the Moon. Chicken and dressing and gravy and blueberry pie and things are too much for me, and I must have a nap.”
“All right. I’m not sleepy. I’m going to read, for I have my letter home written, except adding a little about church. We have enough for the Moon already in, and all there is left to do is to pin any more contributions on the pages of the magazine where they belong. Frances is using an old Saturday Evening Post and divided it off into the different departments yesterday, leaving vacant pages for later contributions.”
“I just wrote home yesterday, but I suppose I’ll have to write to somebody as a ticket of admission to supper. I might write to Phil,” she added, mischievously glancing at Lilian, “and tell him that Lilian has succumbed to chicken and pie.”
Lilian opened a sleepy eye. “Don’t, Cathalina. It’s so delicious to feel sleepy and if you start fun going I’ll get waked up. There comes our councillor. Now you will have to be quiet, at least during rest hour.”
“Not a soul shall disturb your slumbers,” declared Hilary, and Lilian tucked one little hand under her cheek, turned over on her cot, and was asleep in a jiffy.
When the bell rang that evening after supper at about half past seven, it summoned the camp family to the Sunday evening gathering at the club house. Little girls, big girls and many of the councillors sat upon the floor to listen to the reading of the weekly chronicle of camp life, known as the Moon. Chairs around the wall or at one end held the rest of the family, and the doctor, swimming instructor, and other gentlemen whose oversight and assistance were quite necessary to camp comfort and success, usually dropped in to hear the paper read.
There was little that this literary journal would not attempt. Stories, short or continued, articles, editorials, society news, personals, poetry and even an amusing department of questions and answers conducted by one “Mrs. O’Brien”. Question and answer were usually written by the same contributor or editor, but that, it is said, is sometimes done in other periodicals. There were some interesting editorials, one expressing welcome to all the campers and particularly to all the new girls and councillors. Another defined a “good sport” and gave some of the wholesome camp ideas on helpfulness, unselfishness, and camp spirit. Reports were given on athletics, with the names of the team captains, and the general program of activities was outlined.
Klondike life and conversation were the subject of a few clever sketches. In verse appeared the story of the caterpillars which had invaded cabins, and even cots—whether alone or assisted is uncertain—in the early days of camp. Dire pictures were drawn of fuzzy travelers that descended from ceilings and climbed the bridges of noses. Poetic exaggeration also made much of attacks from a mosquito army, under captains, majors, and lieutenants who were undaunted by the taste of insectolatum, citronella, or pennyroyal.
Anything in praise of camp was welcome to the loyal girls, as well as the bright little personals which brought them into kindly or joking notice.