THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE
CHAPTER I.—ONOWAY HOUSE.
“What a lovely quiet summer we’re going to have, we two,” exclaimed Migwan to Hinpoha, as they stood looking out of the window of their room into the garden, filled with rows of young growing things and bordered by a shallow stony river. Migwan, we remember, had come to spend the summer on the little farm owned by the Bartletts and earn enough money to go to college by selling vegetables. The house in the city had been rented for three months, and her mother, Mrs. Gardiner, and her brother Tom and sister Betty had come to the country with her. Hinpoha was temporarily without a home, her aunt being away on her wedding trip with the Doctor, and she was to stay all summer with Migwan.
“Yes, it will be lovely,” agreed Hinpoha. “I’ve never lived in such a quiet place before. And I’ve never had you to myself for so long.” Migwan replied with a hug, in schoolgirl rapture. She felt a little closer to Hinpoha than she did to the other Winnebagos. As they stood there looking out of the window together they heard the honk of an automobile horn and the sound of a car driving into the yard, and ran out to see who the guests were.
“Gladys Evans!” exclaimed Migwan, spying the new comers. “And Nyoda! Welcome to our city!”
“Please mum,” said Gladys, making a long face, “could ye take in a poor lone orphan what’s got no home to her back?”
“What’s up?” asked Migwan, laughing at Gladys’s tone.
“Mother and father started for Seattle to-day,” replied Gladys, “and from there they are going to Alaska, where they will spend the summer. I hinted that I was a good traveling companion, but they decided that three was a crowd on this trip, and as I had done so well for myself last summer they informed me that it was their intention to put me out to seek my own fortune once more. So, hearing that there were pleasant country places along this road, one in particular, I am looking for a place to board for the summer.”
“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Migwan. “To think that we are to have you with us this vacation after all, after thinking that you were going to disport yourself in California! The guest chamber stands ready; ‘will you walk into my parlor?’ said the Spider to the Fly.”
At this point “Nyoda,” Guardian of the Winnebago Camp Fire group, formally known as Miss Kent, also advanced with a long face, holding her handkerchief to her eyes. “Could you take in a poor shipwrecked sailor,” she sobbed, “one whose ship went right down under her feet and left her nothing to stand on at all?”