“I don’t want them! You couldn’t hire me to eat candy at night,” and again Mollie flared up.
“Girls, girls!” besought Betty. “This will never do! We will all be rags in the morning.”
“Polishing rags then, I hope,” murmured Amy. “My hands are black from the oil stove—it smoked, and I’ll need a cake of sand-soap to get clean again.”
“Well, I can’t stand this—I’m too fidgety!” declared Grace. “I’m going to sit up a little while, and read. I’m going to eat a chocolate, too. I’ll give you some, Mollie, if you like. I bought a fresh box of Mr. Lagg.
“Chocolates they are nice and sweet,
Good for man and beast to eat.”
“Give me a young lady-like brand,” suggested Amy.
“Why don’t we all of us sit up a while, and—I have it—we’ll make a pot of chocolate,” exclaimed Mollie. “That will make us all sleep, and warm us—it is getting real chilly already.”
“Perhaps that will be best,” agreed Betty, as she donned her heavy dressing gown and warm slippers, for the tent was cool even in July.
Soon there was the aroma of chocolate in the little cooking shelter, and the girls sat around, in various picturesque and comfortable attitudes, sipping the warm beverage and nibbling the crisp crackers.
Then gradually their nerves quieted down, and even Grace, more aroused than any of the others, began to feel drowsy. One by one they again sought their cots, and finally a series of deep breathings told of much-needed sleep.