"Miss McCarthy," she said. "I wouldn't keep Harriet up long, were I in your place. The poor girl has had a trying time of it this evening. Were the two girls who just walked away from here, Miss Scott and Miss Kidder?"
"Yes, ma'am. And I gave them a good stiff punch—I mean I told them—I let them know how much I loved them."
"Try to love every one, Miss McCarthy. It doesn't pay for one to go about with any other feeling in the heart."
"I guess I must have been born with the other feeling," returned Crazy Jane. "But at any rate, I know I have the other feeling now."
"Try to be like Miss Burrell, sweet and forgiving. Good night."
"Good night, Mrs. Livingston. I'll just say 'good night' to Harriet. I won't stay a minute."
Jane was true to her word. She ran into the tent and gathering Harriet in her arms, kissed her on the forehead, very gently, too, for Jane; after which the impulsive girl ran out without giving Harriet a chance to say a word.
The hour for "lights out" not having arrived, most of the girls were out by the campfire chatting. Harriet preferred to be alone on this occasion. She did not feel equal to talking with any one. She felt that the day had been a miserable failure. There had been two days of it. First, everything in the kitchen had gone wrong. This condition had somewhat improved after Patricia had left the kitchen, only to become many times worse after three days had elapsed.
Harriet tried to reason out the mystery. Her first thought was that Patricia might have had something to do with the spoiling of the soup. But she had not the slightest proof that Patricia was the culprit.
Harriet was at a loss to know what to do. The problem was too much for her. Her head whirled with her effort to solve it Before retiring for the night, however, she moved her cot to the extreme rear of the tent so that the light would not be so strong in her eyes when Patricia and Cora came in to retire. After a time Harriet dropped off to sleep. She was awakened by voices outside at the rear of the tent.