As the girls reluctantly tore themselves away from the fascinating kitchen, two maids entered with trays of sandwiches and nutcakes, olives and candy.
“It is the first time I have had the pleasure of having you all here in my own home,” Miss Laura said, “so we must break bread together.”
“Gee! This beats the picture shows,” Lena Barton declared. “Three cheers for our Guardian—give ’em with claps!” and both cheers and clapping were given in generous measure.
When finally there was a movement to depart, Laura gathered the girls once more about her before the fire. “I hope,” she began, “you have all enjoyed this evening as much as I have——”
“We have! We have!” half a dozen voices broke in, and Lena Barton shrilled enthusiastically, “More!”
Laura smiled at them; then she glanced up at the words above the mantelpiece. “The joy of service,” she said. “That, to me, is the heart—the very essence—of the Camp Fire idea. And while I am planning good times and many of them for ourselves in these coming months, I wish that together we might do some of this loving service for some one beside ourselves. Think it over—think hard—and at our next Council meeting, if you are willing, we will consider what we can do, and for whom.”
“You mean mish’nary work?” questioned Eva Bicknell doubtfully.
“No—at least not what you probably mean by missionary work,” Laura answered.
“Christmas trees for alley folks, and that sort of thing?” ventured another.
“I mean, something for somebody else,” Laura explained. “It may be an old man or woman, a child or—or anything,” she ended hastily, intercepting an exchange of glances between Lena and Eva. “I just want you to think over it and have an idea to suggest at our next meeting.”