That night the girls were to hold their first Council Fire. That was why they were hurrying so to finish their dresses.
When it came Winnie’s turn to answer the roll-call, she rose, slim and graceful in her khaki dress, before her turn was reached.
“Opeechee, Guardian of the Fire, may I speak before my turn comes to answer to my name?” she asked.
“Speak,” said Mrs. Bryan.
“Opeechee, I do not want to change my name. May I not be known in the Camp Fire as Winona? The name is one that an Indian gave one of my own people many circles of moons ago, and it is mine by inheritance.”
“Will you tell the Camp Fire about it?” asked Mrs. Bryan.
So Winnie told the Camp Fire the story her mother had told her, of the weary Indian woman her grandmother had helped, and whose papoose had been called “Winona,” “Flashing Ray of Light.”
“Could anything be better than to be a ray of light in dark places?” asked Winona. “I like the meaning of my name, and if the Camp Fire will let me keep it I promise to be a brightness wherever I can, always, that will light the dark places for people who need it.”
“What do you say, Daughters of the Camp Fire?” asked Mrs. Bryan when Winona was done.
“If we all have different Camp Fire names, won’t it seem strange for Winona to have the same name straight through?” objected Marie. “It is a beautiful name with a beautiful meaning, if it weren’t that it is her every-day name.”