“Do they understand Scouting?” These questions were not asked in any but the most friendly tone. “I am Marge Mackin of Norm Camp, over there, and I have been a Scout leader in the city. I called to say I would be glad to help you in any way——”
“Oh, could you come over to our camp?” asked Julia, impulsively. “We have plenty of room.”
Miss Mackin rippled a girlish laugh. “That’s lovely!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure I never thought of thrusting myself on you this way, but if I can really be of service——”
“Indeed you can,” declared Corene. “We have just gone ahead planning camp and expecting something would turn up to help us out of the director difficulty. Of course, our mothers would have sent an older sister, perhaps changing the force each week, but it is so much better to have a real camp leader. If you can come we have saved a counsellor’s cot,” she finished.
“Have you, really? What wise little girls,” Miss Mackin was glancing around with unhidden admiration.
“Won’t you come in and inspect?” invited Corene.
“How splendid!” enthused the caller, passing in under the tent. “And how very practically ship-shape! You do show you are familiar with real camping. And where did you get such splendid equipment?”
The camp’s history was outlined and its prospects forecast, while Miss Mackin listened approvingly.
“And you really want a resident manager?” she asked finally.
“We do, indeed,” declared the spokesman Corene, who, more than the others, realized the value of the unexpected offer.