But Grace and Helen were not thinking of the “awful hump” as Nathalie had defined it, but of the pale sweet face with the lovely violet eyes that were shining like bright stars.
“I am awfully glad you liked it,” said Helen, suddenly recalled to her duties as the leader of one of the groups. “We tried to make it look as festive as we could with Uncle Sam’s old liberty banners, but if it had not been for the lawn we should not have been able to have the drill.”
“You are all very kind to thank me so prettily,” said Mrs. Van Vorst, “but, as I said, I think you have given me and my little daughter more pleasure than we have given you. The poor child sees so little of life, as we are so secluded here behind these high walls.”
In a few moments, as Nita’s shyness began to wear off, the little group was chatting in the most friendly way, talking over the incidents of the drill, the Pioneers telling about the nice little sum they had made for their camp expenses, while they all ate their cream and cake. Ellen, like a good soul that she was, had hastened out to the lawn and brought enough of those delicacies to provide for the whole group.
Helen’s remark about the Camping Fund started a new subject of conversation and opened the way for Nita to ask many questions about this summer dream of the Pioneers. “Oh,” she declared at length, “I just wish you could come up to Eagle Lake and camp on its shores. We have a bungalow up there, you know, and it is just a glorious place. But it gets so lonely after a while, with nothing but the birds and squirrels to talk to. Oh,” she ended suddenly with a little sigh, “if I was only well and strong, then I would be a Pioneer, too.”
“Oh, but you—” interrupted Nathalie, and then she paused. She was going to say “why you can be,” but the quick remembrance of the hump and the delicate face of the girl caused her to halt. With quick readiness she changed to, “Oh, but you would enjoy seeing one of our cheer fires; they are an inspiration for all kinds of dreams with the burning logs and glowing embers.”
“You ought to see the fagot party we are going to have Monday night,” chimed in Grace. “It is to be a burning send-off to one of the girls who is going South to live for a while.”
“A fagot party?” exclaimed Nita with interested eyes. “Oh, do tell all about it; it sounds, well it sounds fagoty. What do you do?”
“Why, we use small fagots tied into bundles,” explained Helen, “that is, after we have started a good blazing fire. Each girl has her fagot bundle and as soon as one burns up she throws hers on—”
“Oh, but you haven’t told the best part,” broke in Grace. “While each girl’s fagot bundle is burning she tells a story, which has to be ended by the time her fagots are burned.”