“That’s splendid,” said Eleanor. “The Camp Fire is the best thing these girls could have. It will do them a great deal of good, and I was sure that the way to make them see how much they would enjoy it was to let them understand how enthusiastic you two were. That meant more to them than anything I could have said, I’m sure.”
“I don’t see why,” said Dolly.
“Because they’re girls like you, Dolly, and it’s what you like, and show you like, that would appeal to them. I’m older, you see, and they might think that things that I would expect them to like wouldn’t really please them at all.”
“What’s the matter with you, Bessie?” asked Dolly suddenly, as they reached the house. She was plainly concerned and surprised, and Eleanor, rather startled, since she had seen nothing in Bessie to provoke such a question, looked at her keenly.
“Nothing, except that I’m a little tired, I think.”
But Dolly wasn’t satisfied. She knew her chum too well.
“You’ve got something on your mind, but you don’t want to worry us,” she said. “Better own up, Bessie!”
Bessie, however, would not answer. And in the morning she seemed to be her old self. Just as they were starting for the train, though, Bessie suddenly hung back at the door of the boarding-house.
“Wait for me a minute, Dolly,” she said. “I left a handkerchief in our room. I’ll be right down. Go on, the rest of you; we’ll soon catch up.”
She ran upstairs for the handkerchief.