How Ethel Hollister Became a Campfire Girl
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Irene Elliott Benson >> How Ethel Hollister Became a Campfire Girl
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"Never mind, my lamb," said the old lady. "I know Susan well enough to
say that she will love you for yourself, and probably she does intend to
leave you and Kate half of her fortune at least. If it serves to help
your mother socially, why Susan wouldn't care--she'd only laugh. Susan's
very keen and sharp, my child. No one can make her do what she doesn't
care to. Now don't you worry over anything. When she comes just be kind
and polite to her and help make her visit pleasant."
"But, Grandmamma, I should die of mortification if she even conceived the
idea that mother had that in her mind when she asked her here for a
visit. Oh, I couldn't endure it. Please never let her know what I
suspect. Will you promise, or I cannot look into her face."
"Your Aunt Susan shall never suspect such a thing from me. I promise,"
replied Grandmamma Hollister. "I am only too glad to see her once more. I
could almost forgive your mother for any duplicity in it so long as she
can come, for Susan and I are growing old and it will not be many years
before one of us goes. But, Ethel, don't expect to see any style. Aunt
Susan is a plain country woman. It may be a trial for you to have to go
out with her."
"Oh, never, if she's like you, Grandmother," said the girl, kissing her,
"and she is your own sister. She must be like you. But there's Nannie
Bigelow and Grace McAllister. I wonder what they want."
"Hello! Ethel," called two young voices, "we're coming up. Your mother
said we might."
"All right, girls; I'm in Grandmamma's room," replied Ethel, "come in
here."
After greeting the old lady affectionately they began: "What do you know
about it?" said Grace--"here Dorothy Kip has joined a new Society called
the 'Camp Fire Girls,' and from the first day of vacation--May
fifteenth--until October she's going to live in the woods and camp out."
"Yes," broke in Nannie Bigelow, "I'm just crazy to belong but Mamma
won't let me because she heard that two of the girls who are to be in
the Company live in the Bronx in a small flat and go to public school.
But Connie Westcott's aunt is to be the head or 'Guardian,' and these
girls are in her Sunday School class. She likes them and insists upon
their becoming members. Isn't it ridiculous, Mrs. Hollister, that just
because these girls are poor they're not considered fit to associate
with us by some mothers, and I mean mine. As if I was half as good as
they. Why, my great-grandfather was a shoemaker. Papa told me all about
it, and he was a dandy good shoemaker, too; but Mother gets furious when
I refer to it," and Nannie threw herself in a chair before the open fire
that Grandmother Hollister always kept lighted save in warm weather.
"I know my mother wouldn't let me join," said Ethel. "Why, Kate
Hollister is the Guardian of a Company in Columbus, Ohio, and Mother
wouldn't allow her to speak of it even. She says it's like the Salvation
Army, and such ridiculous nonsense. Oh, dear! all the mothers are alike,
I'm afraid. We'll never have real fun until after we're married or
become old maids."
Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Connie Westcott,
Dorothy Kip, and two or three more of Ethel's young friends, to whom
they explained the subject under discussion.
"Well, my mother will let me join," said Connie, "and Dorothy's has
allowed her."
"Yes," broke in Dorothy, "I was sure Mother would allow me to if Miss
Westcott was to be the Guardian."
"It must be a fine organization," said Mrs. Hollister, knitting steadily
with the yellow lace falling over her still pretty hands. "I wish we had
known of something like that in my young day. Why, it must be like one
continuous picnic."
"I'll tell you what they do," said Sara Judson, "they first learn how to
put out a fire. Supposing one's clothes should catch; they could save
one's life. Then, in summer, or through the ice in winter, they rescue
drowning people who have never learned to swim. They know what to do for
an open cut; for fainting; how to bandage and use surgeon's plaster.
They can cook at least two meals, mend stockings, sew, etc., and keep
one's self free from colds and illness. They sleep in the open, and my!
what fine health it gives a girl, and it makes a perfect athlete of her.
She can cook and bake, market, and know just how to choose meats and
vegetables. She can become a fine housekeeper as well, and learn how to
make lovely gardens. Why, I'll bring you a book, Mrs. Hollister. I
couldn't begin to tell you how wonderful it is. If a girl lives up to
all the rules and can learn everything that is taught she's a wonder,
that's all. So I hope some day Ethel can join, even if later."
"Oh, I'll never be allowed to join, girls. I'm to be a parlor ornament,"
and Ethel's eyes filled with tears.
"Never mind," said Constance White, "how desolate the home furnishings
would be without lovely bric-a-brac."
"Yes," replied Grandmother Hollister, "whatever position a girl occupies
if she fills it creditably she will have done her duty."
"I know that Ethel will be the head of a large and magnificent
establishment," said Nannie Bigelow. "She's just the style of a girl."
Ethel half laughed and dried her eyes on her Grandmother's handkerchief.
"I don't care," she faltered, "think of living out in a camp and sitting
around the fire telling stories. And I shall never be allowed to do it."
"Now you buck up, old girl," said Dorothy Kip abruptly. "Oh, excuse me,
Mrs. Hollister, but sometimes I just love to use slang. You go ahead and
wish hard for what you want and you'll get it. I always do. Say, don't
you know that you can influence others to think exactly as you do? By
wishing with all your might you can will it to be done."
Everyone laughed. Dorothy was an odd roly poly pretty girl of fifteen.
She was the only sister and idol of four brothers whom she copied in
every way. The newest slang was invariably on her tongue, and the family
laughed at and petted her. In their eyes everything she did was perfect.
She was a general favorite at school, but Madame La Rue declared that she
would never become a perfect lady while her brothers lived at home; but
she was kind-hearted and generous. Mrs. Hollister, Senior, liked her
immensely. She always called her "Grandma."
"Do you know what I'm going in for?" she asked of the old lady. "Well,
I'll tell you--it's babies!" Everyone laughed.
"You needn't laugh. Next year I'm going to take all of my spending money
excepting ten dollars and hire two rooms and a kitchenette. Dad gives me
sixty dollars per. I'm going to take thirty-five for rent and the boys
will help me furnish. Then I'm going to beg my friends for contributions
and open a Day Nursery. Of course, I'll have to get a woman for fifteen
dollars a month to take care of the babies, and the mothers can pay four
cents a day for each child."
"Why, Dorothy Kip," exclaimed the girls. "You couldn't get any servant
for fifteen dollars a month."
"I can, and don't you forget it. Old Susan Conner, who used to be my
brother Tom's nurse, has offered to come for fifteen dollars. She likes
me and she's willing to help me in this charity. We've talked it all
over. Susan is some class now and has her two-room-and-bath apartment.
She's old and hasn't much to do and she has enough to live on, so she's
offered to come; and I'm going to spend just ten dollars on myself each
month in place of sixty for candy and soda and such nonsense. No one
knows of it but Susan and I. I'm going to beg for oatmeal and rice and
bread of the grocers with whom we've traded for years, and if they
refuse I'll influence Mother to leave them. Then I think Dad will help
me out on milk and anything needed. I'll confide in him."
"That's a fine and magnificent idea, Dorothy," said Mrs. Hollister, "and
you'll become a public benefactor."
"Well, you see, Mrs. Hollister, I like the little kids and I've seen
such pitiful faces on some where the sisters have had to take care of
them while the mothers worked. So I made up my mind I could take ten
little ones anyway. Then the mothers' four cents will be forty cents a
day. That will pay for some, of the food. Oh! I'm going to become a
beggar and ask every friend to help me. Maybe it will fail but I can
try. The boys will give, I'm sure."
"Yes, Dorothy, and I bet you'll succeed," said the girls. "We'll help,
too."
Then each girl pledged herself for what she could afford to give.
"Well, you're awfully good, I'm sure," said Dorothy. "I never dreamed
you'd all come forward. You're certainly sports, every one of you, and
I'm obliged more than I can tell you."
"Who knows," said Grandmother Hollister, "but when you're grown up,
you'll have a large house, and it may be called 'The Kip Day Nursery'
and each of you girls here may be lady managers. They all grow from
small beginnings. And, Dorothy, you may put me down for ten dollars,"
said Mrs. Hollister.
"Oh, say, you're a thoroughbred, you are," and the girl kissed her
impulsively several times.
Now Grandmother Hollister had been saving that particular ten for a new
lace scarf. It had been sent to her on her birthday by her son John,
but she couldn't resist giving it. She could do without the scarf, and
ten dollars would buy a couple or more warm rugs for the babies to sit
on, for little ones like to sit on the floor.
The girls stayed in her room and chatted until dusk. They talked as
freely before the old lady as before one another.
That evening Ethel asked her grandmother if there wasn't some way by
which she could get away that summer and go to visit Cousin Kate.
"I'll think it over," replied Grandmother; "you certainly need the
country. You look thin and peaked."
"Yes, and Mamma will take me to Newport or Narragansett, and I hate it.
Why, it's just like New York. You meet the very same people and I never
cared for the water as I care for inland or mountains. Do think out a
way, Grandmamma. You always manage to do everything just right."
"I'll try," replied Mrs. Hollister.
CHAPTER VI
AUNT SUSAN ARRIVES
The next morning there came a letter of acceptance from Aunt Susan. She
would arrive on Friday. This was Thursday. Grandmother Hollister hummed
a little song as she went up stairs.
"It will do Mother lots of good," ejaculated Mr. Hollister. "It was kind
of you, Bella, to think of that."
Mrs. Hollister blushed. Ethel watched her as she slowly sipped her
coffee. Mrs. Hollister was a peculiar woman. She was truthful and frank
when she wished to be. Now she realized that her husband trusted and had
faith in her and that Ethel was furtively watching her, so she said:
"Well, Archie, perhaps I was a little selfish in asking Aunt Susan.
Perhaps I did it to help Ethel a bit as well as to please Mother. Aunt
Susan is wealthy. Now why shouldn't Ethel come in for some of her money
as well as that adopted boy?"
"Why, Bella," said her husband, "is it possible that you had only that
idea in your head when you invited my aunt here?"
"No, not entirely. I knew that it would please your mother, and I could
kill two birds with one stone. That's why."
Ethel saw a peculiar look come upon her father's face. She had noticed
it when he brought home his disreputable looking friends to dine and
when her mother objected. He turned to his daughter.
"Ethel," he said, "I wish you to help and make your Aunt Susan's visit
very pleasant. I would like you to take her out and show her everything,
and Grandmother must go along also. You will be doing me a great favor
if you will."
"Papa, I'll do my best to make it pleasant," replied the girl, kissing
him.
Then, without looking at his wife, Mr. Hollister left the room, followed
by his daughter.
"So that was her object!" he exclaimed, as Ethel helped him on with his
coat. "What would Aunt Susan think were she to know? Your mother wishes
you to ingratiate yourself with my aunt so that she'll leave you the
lion's share of her money. Why, she'd probably leave my brother John and
me a remembrance anyway, and you and Kate would benefit by it. Well,
this is a strange world, my child. I wish your mother was less politic,
but I presume it is done for you, Ethel, so we mustn't be too hard on
her. She's a good mother to you, my dear, and has great ambition for
you. I only hope that you'll be happy. Never marry for money
alone--that's a sin--remember."
"I will, Papa," said the girl blushing. "I may never marry, and then you
and I can live together. Wouldn't we have fun?"
Aunt Susan arrived. Ethel gazed at her spellbound. She had the kindest
face she had ever seen, but oh! how old fashioned she looked. Her grey
hair was drawn tightly back into a cracker knot. In front she wore a
bunch of tight frizzes under a little flat velvet hat with strings,
something of the style of 1879. Her gown was of black made with a full
skirt trimmed with black satin bands. She wore an old-fashioned plush
dolman heavily beaded and covered with fringe. Her shoes were thick like
a man's, and to crown all she carried a fish-net bag. She didn't seem to
realize that she looked behind the times.
Ethel thought that her teeth and eyes were the loveliest that she had
ever seen on a woman of her age, for she was grandmother's senior. She
and Mrs. Hollister looked enough alike to be twins. They fell upon each
other's neck and wept. Ethel was mentally hoping that Aunt Susan would
purchase some modern clothes or that none of her fashionable friends
would meet her, for among them were some who would laugh at the old
lady, and the girl felt that she'd die of mortification and anger,--not
the girls with whom she was intimate and who came to see her daily, but
the girls who belonged to the exclusive set, and with whom Ethel and her
friends seldom went as they were much younger.
The day following Mrs. Hollister phoned for a taxi, and to Ethel's
horror she ordered an open one. Ethel was to take Aunt Susan and
Grandmother for a drive. She dared not demur. Had she not promised her
father to do everything for Aunt Susan? Could she hurt her dear
grandmother's feelings? And last of all, she would not admit to her
mother the fact that she was ashamed of Aunt Susan's appearance. No, so
she went.
As it was early in April and cool, upon this occasion Aunt Susan wore
ear tabs, over which she tied a thick, green veil, when it grew warmer
in the sunshine she removed the veil. They drove up Riverside to Grant's
Tomb, where Aunt Susan insisted upon getting out. Fortunately Ethel
encountered no one whom she knew, but as they were driving up Lafayette
Boulevard they passed Estelle Mason, one of her swell friends. The
chills ran up and down Ethel's spine, while she sat with her lips
compressed. The girl bowed and deliberately giggled. Even grandmother,
who looked lovely, grew red. But Aunt Susan seemed not to notice it.
"I am a snob just like mother," thought the girl. "I ought to be ashamed
of myself. I'll never speak to Estelle again, the rude upstart! They
say she prides herself on her family, but I can't see that her good
blood has made a lady of her," and into Ethel's eyes came tears.
"Ethel, my dear," said Aunt Susan, "you're looking badly. Your cheeks
are flushed. Do you feel ill?"
"No, Aunt Susan," she replied. "I always grow red when riding in the
wind."
Grandmother had seen it all and pitied the girl.
"Deafness comes early in the Carpenter family," persisted Aunt Susan.
"Here, take this veil, dear, do, and tie it over your ears."
But Ethel declined, and to her joy the ride was soon over.
In the privacy of her room Grandmother Hollister confided to Ethel that
really Aunt Susan ought to dress differently.
"I understand how you felt, dear," she continued, "when you met that
rude Mason girl and she laughed, but there's bad blood there. I know all
about her and her grandparents. My dear child, her grandmother used to
be a waitress way out West where her grandfather owned mines, and he
boarded at the house where she worked, fell in love and married her.
Probably there's where she gets her rudeness."
"Why, Grandmother, how did you know that?" asked Ethel.
"There's little I don't know about the fine old New York families, my
dear. Remember I married into one and I heard a great deal."
After that Ethel felt comforted.
CHAPTER VII
AUNT SUSAN MAKES FRIENDS
In less than a week Mrs. Hollister had circulated the report that Aunt
Susan was an immensely wealthy but eccentric old maid, and that Ethel
was to be her heiress. The report spread like wildfire. Then Mrs.
Hollister took the girl and told her that she must begin and make
herself invaluable to Aunt Susan, so that she alone would inherit her
immense fortune.
"Of course," she said, "she'll leave your Cousin Kate some if it, but
why should that adopted son get the lion's share? You might just as well
have it."
Ethel had to go everywhere with Aunt Susan,--she who so disliked
anything savoring of the conspicuous. She could hear the sneers and
laughter of Estelle Mason's set of girls and could see their looks of
amusement. At first she rebelled, but the dislike of offending her
grandmother and fear of disobeying her mother made her meekly submit,
and like a martyr she went.
Aunt Susan was such a lovely character that Ethel was ashamed of
herself, for everything seemed to please her so, and she kept dwelling
upon the fact that the family (especially Ethel) was so kind that she
should never forget it. But although she bought expensive gifts for the
three women, they dared not suggest her spending anything on herself.
Something kept them from it and told them that she might become offended
and leave the house.
Gradually the friends of the Hollisters' came and fell in love with Aunt
Susan. She was such a lady and had such charming manners. Besides,
knowing her to be a wealthy woman, they accepted her with her peculiar
gowns, even inviting her to teas, etc. Never did an old lady have such a
fine visit. Harvey Bigelow was most attentive to her, Aunt Susan
declaring him to be a likely fellow, and wondering why her niece Kate
didn't fancy him.
She spoke often of Thomas Harper--her adopted son and protege. He was a
fine lawyer and was devoted to her. She received letters from him twice
a week, from which she read extracts. Mrs. Hollister declared that he
was crafty and after Aunt Susan's money, and it seemed to worry her not
a little. She even started in to insinuate as much to the lady, who
gazed at her peculiarly until Grandmother took her alone one day and
said: "If ever you expect to make Aunt Susan fond of Ethel you are going
to work the wrong way. She's very sharp, and if you speak ill of Thomas
Harper you'll show your hand--I warn you.
"She'll do as she chooses and you can't compel her to do otherwise.
She's fond of Ethel now for herself. I warn you, Bella, not to let your
greediness make Susan know you as you are. I'd like her to keep the
good opinion of you that she has at present."
Mrs. Hollister knew that her mother-in-law spoke the truth and she said
nothing, but left the room.
CHAPTER VIII
ETHEL IS INVITED TO VISIT
One morning in May, as the last days of Aunt Susan's visit were drawing
to a close, she said to Mrs. Hollister: "Bella, Ethel tells me that her
vacation begins next week. Now I've been thinking it over. The child
doesn't look strong. She needs country air. I don't mean your
fashionable places, but where she can live out of doors in a simple
gown, play games, and take long walks, etc. Now you've given me such a
pleasant time that I'm going to invite her to go home with me. I'll wait
for her school to close and we can start from here Saturday."
Mrs. Hollister was overjoyed. Of all things that was what she had most
desired and, too, it would save them much expense, for a summer's trip
to a fashionable hotel made a large hole in Archibald Hollister's
salary.
"Yes, indeed, Aunt Susan, she will be simply delighted to go," replied
the lady. "I'll get her ready at once."
"She'll need nothing new," called out Aunt Susan. "We're very plain
people. We live simply, and her gowns and hats will seem like visions of
Paris fashions to the girls in our town. Then I shall ask Kate to come
for a visit as well. And, by the way, Bella, come back; I wish to say
something. You know my niece Kate goes up into Camp this summer with her
girls. Now I should like Ethel to go along. It is a great movement--this
Camp Fire movement--and it will do the child lots of good, for she
strikes me as very delicate."
Mrs. Hollister gasped.
"Yes," she replied, "Kate spoke to me of it but I shouldn't care for
Ethel to join."
"Why not?" asked Aunt Susan. "It certainly is the most creditable thing
any girl can join. It's a wonderful institution. What objection can you
have?" and she looked at her niece tentatively.
Mrs. Hollister reviewed the situation as she stood there. It would not
do for her to air her objections to Aunt Susan. She was just a little
afraid of that lady and wished her to have a good opinion of her, so she
continued reluctantly: "Well, you see, Aunt Susan, it is such a
strenuous life, and Ethel is not over robust. I'm almost afraid it might
do her more harm than good."
"Nonsense, Bella," replied Aunt Susan, "that's the most shallow
objection you could advance. I should deem it a personal favor if you'll
give your consent."
Now Mrs. Hollister dared not withhold her consent, and yet she was
angry. That Ethel was at last to be entrapped into belonging to that
detestable Organization was what she had never dreamed could take place.
She was caught and trapped; there was no help. Even though she gave her
consent, after Ethel came home in the fall she could talk her out of it.
So she said with a of show amiability: "Since you desire it, Aunt Susan,
I'll consent, but I don't approve of it at all, I must admit."
"Thank you," replied Aunt Susan. "I think you'll feel differently when
you see Ethel upon her return home this fall. All of the girls in Akron
are joining. They're crazy over it."
Mrs. Hollister replied that she was open to conviction and should be
glad if Ethel derived any benefit from it.
"But what shall I buy for her to wear?" she asked.
"I will attend to her outfit," replied Aunt Susan. "It is not
expensive."
CHAPTER IX
ETHEL AND AUNT SUSAN START
Ethel was overjoyed that permission had been obtained to allow her to
become a Camp Fire Girl.
"Isn't Aunt Susan clever to have been able to have gotten Mother to
change her mind?"
Grandmother smiled but said nothing, but when alone Mrs. Hollister said:
"Ethel, remember that you are in line for Aunt Susan's money.
Grandmother says she admires you and thinks that you have shown her
great courtesy--says you've been kindness itself to her--so it has paid,
hasn't it, dear? Now your visit will do the business, and you'll
probably come in for the lion's share. Of course, you are only sixteen,
but who knows what may happen? When you finish school you may become the
Duchess of Everton's sister-in-law--think of it--and I alone shall be
responsible."
"Oh, Mamma," replied Ethel, growing red, "you know I am only a young
girl yet. Besides, I loathe Harvey Bigelow. He talks through his nose
and is vulgar."
"Nonsense," replied her mother, "look at all of the young men of today,
especially among the rich. Are they so very good looking?"
"Yes," replied Ethel, "I think Dorothy Kip has four fine looking
brothers, and I know lots of good looking young men, but I can't endure
Harvey Bigelow although I love Nannie."
"Well, Harvey averages well as to looks, and think of his position and
family, and you a poor man's daughter. If you'll be guided by me, my
dear, I'll put you above them all. Were your father to die what could
you do? Should you like to be a saleswoman?"
Ethel was angry but she knew that her mother spoke wisely. She, too,
loved money and position, as well perhaps as Mrs. Hollister, but she was
not quite so worldly.
The Saturday arrived at last and they started for Akron. Although Ethel
felt ashamed to admit it, owing to Aunt Susan's conspicuous appearance,
she dreaded the train ordeal, but there was no help for it. She did
speak of it to her mother, who calmly surveyed her daughter and replied:
"Ethel, I fear you are a snob."
The girl regarded her mother with astonishment, who without
embarrassment calmly continued: "Did you ever see me act as though I was
ashamed of your aunt?"
And as Ethel thought, she was forced to admit that she never had, for
Mrs. Hollister was a strange anomaly. Her snobbishness seemed to lie in
the desire to rise socially--to take her place with the best--but she
never had seemed to even take exception to Aunt Susan's appearance; in
fact, she felt that people would consider it the eccentricity of a
wealthy woman. She went with her everywhere and never was ashamed,
therefore her reproof to her daughter was sincere.
CHAPTER X
THE JOURNEY
The journey was very pleasant. Ethel enjoyed it. Aunt Susan removed her
hat and tied the objectionable green veil around her head. This didn't
seem quite so out of place. As they talked Ethel noticed that Aunt Susan
was wonderfully well informed on every subject. She was like an
encyclopedia, and her conversation was most interesting.
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