“But here comes Teresa. Perhaps she will tell us how she feels on the subject. I wonder what is the matter? She looks worried, and she has been so happy at camp.”
At the tent opening Teresa appeared.
“Do come on down to the lake and let us sit there a half hour and talk if you have finished your work?” she asked.
Teresa’s olive coloring had deepened in the weeks in the sunshine and fresh air, her cheeks were more rose colored, her wide eyes with their half mature, half childish expression were slightly plaintive at this instant.
The shores of the lake, not a great distance from the camping ground, were a favorite resting place for the Girl Scout Troop.
Not only did they rest here and hold long conversations, of necessity here a good deal of the camp work took place. Clothes and dishes were washed, water was had for cleaning. Farther up on the left-hand side, where a shore of bright pebbles ran down into the lake, was the bathing beach for the campers. The water for drinking was obtained at a pure spring up the hill of the Three Pines which rose not far off from the camp.
At present, as the greater number of the girls were still busy in their tents, the vicinity of the lake was agreeably solitary.
As the three girls sat down Louise Miller said suddenly:
“There is a legend of a lake where every night at midnight a maiden arises bearing in her hands a silver bowl. One may make a wish and cast it into the silver bowl. Then the maiden disappears. On another night, one can never know exactly when, the maiden returns and on this night grants your wish.”
“I wish she would appear at once,” Teresa grumbled. “I have a wish she might be persuaded to grant. I want something more exciting to happen at camp. Oh, I am enjoying it of course, but of late the days have been a good deal alike.”