She was hardly in sympathy with Blanche, whom she guessed to have been guilty of undue stress in her accusations. Neither did she approve of the part Frances had played in the morning’s jangle.
“It’s all my fault,” Frances’ contrite apology shattered the hush that had succeeded the formal statement and question. “But Blanche won’t believe that I was only in fun. Besides, she didn’t hear Ruth say before we climbed the hill that she was probably sleeping later than the rest of us, because she wasn’t used to long hikes. Nobody said another word about Blanche until Anne called to us to hurry and get ready for breakfast. Jane asked if Blanche was up yet, and then I sang out that silly paraphrase before I thought how it might sound. I am always making rhymes about the girls, but they don’t mind.
“Ruth told me then that I ought not to have sung it. Sarah said that Blanche wouldn’t be able to sleep after I had made so much noise.” Frances gallantly left out Sarah’s reference to Blanche as a “sleepyhead,” for which the former was duly grateful. As Blanche had not accused her directly of back-biting, she concluded that her uncomplimentary appellation had passed unnoticed.
“Ruth said, ‘Be good, Frances,’” continued the defendant ruefully. “I said I was good, gooder, goodest, and that I’d thought of a way to be helpful to Blanche and asked Jane to help me. Jane was not a bit anxious to, but asked me to tell her what it was. I said I wouldn’t tell her just then because we were too near the cottage, and Blanche might hear me and miss a delightful surprise. It did sound rather horrid.” A flush dyed her cheeks as she made this candid admission. “It wasn’t anything dreadful, though.
“No one is to blame but myself. Marian and Betty weren’t even on the scene. Anne and Emmy didn’t say a single word. What Jane, Ruth and Sarah said didn’t amount to a row of pins. I am the real villain. Blanche, I apologize most humbly for my sins. Please believe that I didn’t intend to be ill-natured.” Frances made her apology with convincing sincerity.
“I shall not accept your apology unless you tell me the trick you said you were going to play on me, and give me your word that you won’t play it,” snapped Blanche.
“I am willing to promise not to trouble you with any of my jokes, but that is all.” It was Frances who was angry now. “You may accept my apology or not, just as you like.”
“I think you ought to make Frances tell me, Miss Drexal,” Blanche made pettish appeal. “How can I know that she will keep her word?”
“Oh-h!” The exclamation burst angrily from Jane’s lips. No matter how much she and Frances might argue, in time of stress she was a loyal supporter.
“That is hardly fair, Blanche,” Miss Drexal gently rebuked. “I, for one, will vouch for Frances’ word.” An affirmative murmur swept along the row of shocked listeners. “As for the joke itself, I should advise both of you to dismiss all thought of it. As your hostess, girls,” she continued, addressing herself to the entire company, “it does not become me to lecture you. As Camp Fire Girls, it does not become any one of you to speak in a manner that may give offense to another. What may seem merely fun to you may not be regarded as fun by someone else. We came here with the intention of spending a happy season together. We must not allow the slightest shadow of dissension to settle down upon us. I shall make no further criticism upon this little rift in the lute. I shall also appreciate it if you will refrain from all discussion of it with one another. And now, let us forget it and talk of our plans for the day. Sentence on the defendants is suspended, and court is dismissed,” she concluded humorously.