“You’ll have to get somebody else to tell the stories while you’re gone, then,” said Florence. “I don’t want my story-hour broken up!”
“By all means, don’t break up Florence’s private story-hour!” said Tom. “Why don’t you do the story-telling yourself, Floss?”
But, “That’s true, Florence,” said Winona. “I think I can find one of the girls in the Porch Club who will do it. You see, mother dear, I’ll need to get all the loose ends up out of the way if I go back even for three days!”
But all the loose ends tied themselves up neatly. Ellen Marks, one of the nicest of the Porch Club girls, promised to tell the stories for the two days Winona would miss. Nataly could look after things elsewhere, and by the eleventh Mrs. Merriam was nearly as well as ever. So the morning of that day saw Winona on her way back to Camp Karonya, with joy in her heart, and her ceremonial costume over her arm, in a special bag.
The whole crowd of girls rushed out to meet her, and sang a cheer from the time her motor-boat was in sight till she landed. They surrounded her, and carried her into camp, where supper was nearly ready.
It seemed very good to be back. The pine needles smelled as woodsily as ever, and the long wooden table looked very homelike, with its brown, chattering girls surrounding it, all trying to tell her everything at once. As soon as supper was over Helen and Louise swept her off to her old tent.
“Hurry,” said Helen. “Get into your ceremonial costume, honey. Heap big Council Fire to-night.”
“Council Fire?” said Winona in surprise. “Why, is it the night for it?”
“This is an extra-special,” explained Helen hastily. “Here, Win, let me help you.”
She began to unfasten Winona’s travelling suit.