From the junior cabin came a short story by June, which was entitled “Lost or Kidnapped?—A True Story.”
“This is the story of a junior at Merrymeeting Camp and her adventure. She was a very pretty little girl. Everybody liked her, but she had one fault which shall be seen.
“One day the girls went on a hike to First Trott’s. They had a very good time. They ate blueberries, picked flowers in the woods and brought home plenty of Indian pipe for table bouquets. They did not touch them for fear they would turn black, as they have a way of doing.
“All the girls were laughing and talking and having great fun on the way home. When the supper bell rang, everybody went to the dining hall as usual. But when the girls at Mother Nature’s table sat down, Dot was not there. Mother Nature told the head councillor and her face turned white, because Dot is not very old and something might have happened to her.
“So they slipped around and asked the juniors and some of the other girls where they had seen Dot last. Jo remembered seeing her when they were about half way home, but nobody knew where she was. It seemed very serious. Somebody started out at once on the little road. Somebody else went to the pine grove, and several girls began to look all over camp for her. Jo happened to think of looking in the cabin. And there was Dot, reading a book! She hadn’t even heard the supper bell!
“Her carelessness had made a great deal of trouble for everybody, but nobody had gotten so far away that they were not easily called back. And everybody was so glad that it had turned out all right that Dot did not even get a scolding.”
Lilian had had some trouble with her verses. She was undecided whether to have a fair, round, full or high moon, and spent some time in getting a rhyme for “reflection”. Then she hit upon “direction”, and in thinking of the somewhat devious way which the Kennebec followed “indirection” occurred to her. This at once finished her last lines, and as the subject was appropriate to an evening edition, they were used to close the “Moon”.
EVENING IN MAINE.
A song sparrow drops to its nest in the bush;
A swallow in circles is winging;