She looked very fair and sweet as she came across the trail. She wore no hat and her pale yellow hair was the color of corn silk. It was tied back loosely with a band of ribbon and she wore an ordinary morning camp fire costume. Gerry had not yet gotten beyond the first order of the camp fire.
Her hat, however, was filled with lovely wild flowers, which she cast at once into her Camp Fire guardian’s lap.
“This is my morning tribute, dear lady,” she began. “I have been wandering about looking for them for you.”
Now Polly Burton was aware that Gerry always flattered her, but she did not dream for a moment that this had anything to do with her especial fondness for her. There was an unusual bond between them—one which she had not yet confided to the other girls and probably would not until their camp fire days were over. Besides this, Gerry did seem to have a particularly sweet nature, even though the usually reasonable Peggy did not like her. But, then, the other girls did, and Peggy was a little spoiled and apt to be too blunt. She and Gerry would become more friendly later, was always her aunt’s conclusion.
“Were you alone, Gerry?” Mrs. Burton asked. “You know I would rather you girls did not go far from camp by yourselves. This country is too unfamiliar to all of us.”
But she picked up the flowers and held them lovingly against her face. They had not the usual fragrances, but a kind of aromatic sweetness.
“Oh, I wasn’t alone all the time,” Gerry replied evasively, although the older woman did not notice this. “I followed Vera and Peggy and then came back along the creek.”
“But what about Bettina?” Polly asked carelessly, “I thought she went with the other two girls.”
She was not especially interested in her own question, for she was really thinking of her husband. But something in Gerry’s manner at this instant arrested her attention.
Gerry had not answered, but instead had turned her face and was gazing at the landscape.