"No," Prissy said. "But it's all right."
* * * * *
And then came the last night of all. And Pip-Emma sat alone by the campfire for the last time. Everything was packed and ready. Tomorrow they were all going home. Tomorrow Pip-Emma would be back with Pop and Ma and the old Gang. She'd have an awful lot to tell them—about their Great Adventure, and the Camp powwows and singsongs and marshmallow feasts. She'd learned some things, too, that she'd have to break to Pop and Ma very gently—the way you wore your napkin, for instance, and not picking your teeth, or making noises with your soup.
She'd never see Janet again or Clara or Prissy or Miss Thornton or the trees or the stars or the lake shining under them. She wasn't going to cry about it, though.
She was trying so hard not to that she didn't know she wasn't alone any more. There was a little scuffling sound. She looked up. And there were the Penguins, all around her, wrapped in their blankets and looking just like Penguins.
Clara VanSittart was making a speech again. "We want to give you this,
Pip-Emma," she said, "and we hope you'll always wear it."
It was the sacred Penguin Badge.
"Gee, you bet," Pip-Emma said huskily.
They were gone, as quickly, as silently as they had come. It was as though they knew how Pip-Emma felt.
But little Janet crouched beside her. "Don't cry, Pip."