“See your elegance!” said Ruth to her aunt, pointing to a mirror, which hung by a nail over Miss Sallie’s rough pine wood dressing table. Her favorite toilet articles were already laid out upon it, her wrapper hung over the back of a chair.
“Most noble lady,” continued Ruth, “behold what miracles your willing slaves have performed for your comfort! Everything is here for your convenience except your perfumed bath.”
“Don’t speak of a bath, child!” cried Miss Sallie, with a real shudder of horror. “It is the lack of a proper bathtub that makes this camping business truly awful!”
“Come, Miss Sallie,” called Barbara, quick to change the subject. “I want you to see the wonderful sunset.” Overhead Miss Sallie beheld a golden radiance that bathed the hilltop in a wonderful light. In the west the sun was sinking behind a line of blue mountains.
That evening the girls sat around an open campfire piled high with pine logs. It was a cool night, and although they were tired, no one would suggest going in to bed. Every now and then Mollie would tumble forward and awake with a start. She was half listening, half dreaming as Grace’s lovely voice floated out through the still night air, singing, while she strummed idly her guitar:
| “Lovely moon that softly glides, Through the realms where God abides.” |
“I wonder,” said Mollie to Grace, as she finally followed her into bed, “what wonderful adventures we shall have in this forest? Perhaps we shall awaken a wood nymph and teach her to become a mortal maid. Do you suppose she would like the change?”