The Camp Fire Girls on the March
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Jane L. Stewart >> The Camp Fire Girls on the March
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"Of course it won't, Margery, but I don't expect them to have to live
this way all winter. If it serves to-night and to-morrow night I think
it will be all that's needed. Now you understand just what is to be
done, don't you? If you want to ask any questions, go ahead."
"No. We understand, don't we, girls?" said Margery.
"All right, then," said Eleanor. "Girls, Margery is Acting Guardian
while I'm gone. You're all to do just as she tells you, and obey her
just as if she were I. I see that Tom's got the buggy all harnessed up.
It's lucky they were able to save their wagons and their horses, isn't
it!"
"What are you going to do in Cranford!" asked Dolly. "Won't you tell us,
Miss Eleanor?"
"No, I won't, Dolly," said Eleanor, laughing. "If I come back with good
news--and I certainly hope I shall--you'll enjoy it all the more if it's
a surprise, and if I don't succeed, why, no one will be disappointed
except me."
And then with a wave of her hand, she sprang into the waiting buggy and
drove off with Tom Pratt holding the reins, and looking very proud of
his pretty passenger.
"Well, I don't know what it's all about, but we know just what we're
supposed to do, girls," said Margery. "So let's get to work. Bessie, you
and Dolly might start picking out the boards that aren't too badly
burned."
"All right," said Dolly. "Come on, Bessie!"
"I'll pace off the distance to see how big a place we need to make,"
said Margery. "Mrs. Pratt, how far is it to a part of the woods that
wasn't burned? Miss Mercer thought we could get some green branches
there for bedding."
"Not very far," said Mrs. Pratt, with a sigh. "That's what seemed so
hard! When we drove along this morning we came quite suddenly to a patch
along the road on both sides where the fire hadn't reached, and it made
us ever so happy."
"Oh, what a shame!" said Margery. "I suppose you thought you'd come to
the end of the burned part?"
"I hoped so--oh, how I did hope so!" said poor Mrs. Pratt. "But then,
just before we came in sight of the place, we saw that the fire had
changed its direction again, and then we knew that our place must have
gone."
"That's very strange, isn't it?" said Margery. "I wonder why the fire
should spare some places and not others?"
"It seems as if it were always that way in a big fire," said Mrs. Pratt.
"I suppose there'd been some cutting around that patch of woods that
wasn't burned. And only last year a man was going to buy the wood in
that wood lot of ours on the other side of the road, and clear it. If he
had, maybe the fire wouldn't ever have come near us, at all."
"Well, we'll have to think about what did happen, not what we wish had
happened, Mrs. Pratt," said Margery, cheerfully. "The thing to do now is
to make the best of a bad business. I'm going to send four or five of
the girls to get branches. Perhaps you'll let one of the children go
along to show them the way?"
"You go, Sally," said Mrs. Pratt to the oldest girl, a child of
fourteen, who had been listening, wide-eyed, to the conversation. "Now,
ain't there somethin' Ann an' I can do to help?"
"Why, yes, there is, Mrs. Pratt. I think it's going to be dreadfully
hot. Over there, where we unpacked our stores, you'll find a lot of
lemons. I think if you'd make a couple of big pails full of lemonade
we'd all enjoy them while we were working, and they'd make the work go
faster, too."
"The water won't be very cold," suggested Ann.
"Pshaw, Ann! Why not use the ice?" said Mrs. Pratt, whose interest in
small things had been wonderfully revived. "The ice-house wasn't burned.
Do you go and get a pailful of ice, and we'll have plenty for the girls
to drink. They surely will be hot and tired with all they're doing for
us."
"I'm sorry I ever said Mrs. Pratt wasn't nice," said Dolly to Bessie,
when they happened to overhear this, and saw how Mrs. Pratt began
hustling to get the lemonade ready.
"I knew she'd be all right as soon as she began to be waked up a
little," said Bessie. "This is more fun than one of our silly
adventures, isn't it, Dolly? Because it's just as exciting, but there
isn't the chance of things going wrong, and we're doing something to
make other people happy."
"You're certainly right about that, Bessie. And it makes you think of
how much hard luck people have, and how easy it would be for people who
are better off to help them, doesn't it?"
"It _is_ easy, Dolly. You know, I think Miss Eleanor must help an awful
lot of people. It seems to be the first thing she thinks of when she
sees any trouble."
"She makes one understand what Wo-he-lo really means," said Dolly.
"She's often explained that work means service--doing things for other
people, and not just working for yourself."
"That's one of the things I like best about the Camp Fire," said Bessie,
thoughtfully. "Everyone in it seems to be unselfish and to think about
helping others, and yet there isn't someone to preach to you all the
time--they just do it themselves, and make you see that it's the way to
be really happy."
"I wouldn't have believed that I could enjoy this sort of work if anyone
had told me so a year ago. But I do. I haven't had such a good time
since I can remember. Of course, I feel awfully sorry for the Pratts,
but I'm glad that, if it had to happen to them, we came along in time to
help them."
They hadn't stopped working while they talked, and now they had brought
as many boards as Margery wanted.
"There are lots more boards, Margery," said Dolly. "Why shouldn't we
make a sort of floor for the lean-to? If we put up a couple of planks
for them to rest on, every so often, we could have a real floor, and
then, even if the ground got damp, it would be dry inside."
"Good idea! We'll do that," said Margery, who was busy herself, flying
here, there, and everywhere to direct the work. "Go ahead!"
And so, when the sound of wheels in the road heralded the return of Miss
Eleanor in the buggy, the work was done, and the lean-to was completed,
a rough-and-ready shelter that was practical in the extreme, though
perhaps it was not ornamental.
"Splendid!" cried Eleanor. "But I knew you girls would do well. And I've
got the good news I hoped to bring, too!"
CHAPTER V
GOOD NEWS FROM TOWN
Everyone rushed eagerly forward, and crowded around Miss Mercer as she
descended from the buggy, smiling pleasantly at the bashful Tom Pratt,
who did his best to help her in her descent. And not the least eager, by
any means, was Tom Pratt's mother, whose early indifference to the
interest of these good Samaritans in her misfortunes seemed utterly to
have vanished.
"Oh, these girls of yours!" cried Mrs. Pratt. "You've no idea of how
much they've done--or how much they've heartened us all up, Miss Mercer!
I don't believe there were ever so many kind, nice people brought
together before!"
Eleanor laughed, as if she were keeping a secret to herself. And her
words, when she spoke, proved that that was indeed the case.
"Just you wait till you know how many friends you really have around
here, Mrs. Pratt!" she said. "Well, I told you I hoped to bring back
good news, and I have, and if you'll all give me a chance, I'll tell you
what it is."
"You've found a place for all the Pratts to go!" said Dolly.
"You've arranged something so that they won't have to stay here!" agreed
Margery.
"I don't know whether Mrs. Pratt would agree that that was such good
news," she said. "Tell me, Mrs. Pratt--you are still fond of this place,
aren't you?"
"Indeed, and I am, Miss Mercer!" she said, choking back a sob. "When I
first saw how it looked this morning, I thought I only wanted to go away
and never see it again, if I only knew where to go. But I feel so
different now. Why, all the time we've been working around here, it's
made me think of how Tom--I mean my poor husband--and I came here when
we were first married. Tom had the land, you see, and he'd built a
little cabin for us with his own hands."
"And all the farm grew from that?"
"Yes. We worked hard, you see, and the children came, but we had a
better place for each one to be born in, Miss Mercer--we really did! It
was our place. We've earned it all, with the help from the place itself,
and before the fire--"
She broke down then, and for a moment she couldn't go on.
"Of course you love it!" said Eleanor, heartily. "And I don't think it
would be very good news for you to know that you had a chance to go
somewhere else and make a fresh start, though I could have managed that
for you."
"I'd be grateful, though, Miss Mercer," said Mrs. Pratt. "I don't want
you to think I wouldn't. It'll be a wrench, though--I'm not saying it
wouldn't. When you've lived anywhere as long as I've lived here, and
seen all the changes, and had your children born in it, and--"
"I know--I know," interrupted Eleanor, sympathetically. "And I could see
how much you loved the place. So I never had any idea at all of
suggesting anything that would take you away."
"Do you really think we can get a new start here?" asked Mrs. Pratt,
looking up hopefully.
"I don't only believe it, I know it, Mrs. Pratt," said Eleanor,
enthusiastically. "And what's more, you're going to be happier and more
prosperous than you ever were before the fire. Not just at first,
perhaps, but you're going to see the way clear ahead, and it won't be
long before you'll be doing so well that you'll be able to let my friend
Tom here go to college."
Mrs. Pratt's face fell. It seemed to her that Eleanor was promising too
much.
"I don't see how that could be," she said. "Why, his paw and I used to
talk that over. We wanted him to have a fine education, but we didn't
see how we could manage it, even when his paw was alive."
"Well, you listen to me, and see if you don't think there's a good
chance of it, anyhow," said Eleanor. "In the first place, none of the
people in Cranford knew that you'd had all this trouble. It was just as
I thought. Their own danger had been so great that they simply hadn't
had time to think of anything else. They were shocked and sorry when I
told them."
"There's a lot of good, kind people there," said Mrs. Pratt, brightening
again. "I'm sure I didn't think anything of their not having come out
here to see how we were getting along."
"Some of them would have been out in a day or two, even if I hadn't told
them, Mrs. Pratt. As it is--but I think that part of my story had better
wait. Tell me, you've been selling all your milk and cream to the big
creamery that supplies the milkmen in the city, haven't you?"
"Yes, and I guess that we can keep their trade, if we can get on our
feet pretty soon so that they can get it regular again."
"I've no doubt you could," said Eleanor, dryly. "They make so much money
buying from you at cheap prices and selling at high prices that they
wouldn't let the chance to keep on slip by in a hurry, I can tell you.
But I've got a better idea than that."
Mrs. Pratt looked puzzled, but Tom Pratt, who seemed to be in Eleanor's
secret, only smiled and returned Eleanor's wise look.
"When you make butter you salt it and keep it to use here, don't you?"
Eleanor asked next.
"Yes, ma'am, we do."
"Well, if you made fresh, sweet butter, and didn't salt it at all, do
you know that you could sell it to people in the city for fifty cents a
pound?"
Mrs. Pratt gasped.
"Why, no one in the world ever paid that much for butter!" she said,
amazed. "And, anyhow, butter without salt's no good."
"Lots of people don't agree with you, and they're willing to pay pretty
well to have their own way, too," she said, with a laugh. "In the city
rich families think fresh butter is a great luxury, and they can't get
enough of it that's really good. And it's the same way, all summer
long, at Lake Dean.
"The hotel there will take fifty pounds a week from you all summer long,
as long as it's open, that is. And I have got orders for another fifty
pounds a week from the people who own camps and cottages. And what's
more, the manager of the hotel has another house, in Lakewood, in the
winter time, and when he closes up the house at Cranford, he wants you
to send him fifty pounds a week for that house, too."
"Why, however did you manage to get all those orders?" asked Margery,
amazed.
"I telephoned to the manager of the hotel," said Eleanor. "And then I
remembered the girls at Camp Halsted, and I called up Marcia Bates and
told her the whole story, and what I wanted them to do. So she and two
or three of the others went out in that fast motor boat of theirs and
visited a lot of families around the lake, and when they told them about
it, it was easy to get the orders."
"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Pratt. "I wouldn't ever have thought of
doin' anythin' like that, Miss Mercer, and folks around here seem to
think I'm a pretty good business woman, too, since my husband died. Why,
we can make more out of the butter than we ever did out of a whole
season's crops, sellin' at such prices!"
"You won't get fifty cents a pound from the hotel," said Eleanor.
"That's because they'll take such a lot, and they'll pay you every week.
So I told them they could have all they wanted for forty cents a pound.
But, you see, at fifty pounds a week, that's twenty dollars a week, all
the year round, and with the other fifty pounds you'll sell to private
families, that will make forty-five dollars a week. And you haven't even
started yet. You'll have lots more orders than you can fill."
"I'm wonderin' right now, ma'am, how we'll be able to make a hundred
pounds of butter a week."
"I thought of that, too," said Eleanor, "and I bought half a dozen more
cows for you, right there in Cranford. They're pretty good cows, and if
they're well fed, and properly taken care of, they'll be just what you
want."
"But I haven't got the money to pay for them now, ma'am!" said Mrs.
Pratt, dismayed.
"Oh, I've paid for them," said Eleanor, "and you're going to pay me when
you begin to get the profits from this new butter business. I'd be glad
to give them to you, but you won't need anyone to give you things;
you're going to be able to afford to pay for them yourself."
Mrs. Pratt broke into tears.
"That's the nicest thing you've said or done yet, Miss Mercer," she
sobbed. "I just couldn't bear to take charity--"
"Charity? You don't need it, you only need friendly help, Mrs. Pratt,
and if I didn't give you that someone else would!"
"And eggs! They'll be able to sell eggs, too, won't they!" said Dolly,
jumping up and down in her excitement.
"They certainly will! I was coming to that," said Eleanor. "You know,
this new parcel post is just the thing for you, Mrs. Pratt! Just as soon
as a letter I wrote is answered, you'll get a couple of cases of new
boxes that are meant especially for mailing butter and eggs and things
like that from farmers to people in the city.
"You'll be able to sell eggs and butter cheaper than people in the city
can buy things that are anything like as good from the stores, because
you won't have to pay rent and lighting bills and all the other
expensive things about a city store. I'm going to be your agent, and I
do believe I'll make some extra pocket money, too, because I'm going to
charge you a commission."
Mrs. Pratt just laughed at that idea.
"Well, you wait and see!" said Eleanor. "I'm glad to be able to help,
Mrs. Pratt, but I know you'll feel better if you think I'm getting
something out of it, and I'm going to. I think my running across you
when you were in trouble is going to be a fine thing for both of us.
Why, before you get done with us, you'll have to get more land, and a
lot more cows and chickens, because we're going to make it the
fashionable thing to buy eggs and butter from you!"
Mrs. Pratt seemed to be overwhelmed, and Eleanor, in order to create a
diversion, went over to inspect the lean-to.
"It's just right," she said. "Having a floor made of those boards is a
fine idea; I didn't think of that at all. Good for you, Margery!"
"That was Dolly's idea, not mine," said Margery.
"You were perfectly right, too. Well, it's getting a little late and I
think it's time we were thinking about dinner. Margery, if you'll go
over to the buggy you'll find quite a lot of things I bought in
Cranford. We don't want to use up the stores we brought with us before
we get away from here. And--here's a secret!"
"What?" said Margery, leaning toward her and smiling. And Eleanor
laughed as she whispered in Margery's ear.
"There are going to be some extra people--at least seven or eight, and
perhaps more--for dinner, so we want to have plenty, because I think
they're going to be good and hungry when they sit down to eat!"
"Oh, do tell me who they are," cried Margery, eagerly. "I never saw you
act so mysteriously before!"
"No, it's a surprise. But you'll enjoy it all the more when it comes for
not knowing ahead of time. Don't breathe a word, except to those who
help you cook if they ask too many questions."
Dinner was soon under way, and those who were not called upon by Margery
busied themselves about the lean-to, arranging blankets and making
everything snug for the night.
The busy hands of the Camp Fire Girls had done much to rid the place of
its look of desolation, and now everything spoke of hope and renewed
activity instead of despair and inaction. A healthier spirit prevailed,
and now the Pratts, encouraged as to their future, were able to join
heartily in the laughter and singing with which the Camp Fire Girls made
the work seem like play.
"Why, what's this?" cried Bessie, suddenly. She had gone toward the
road, and now she came running back.
"There are four or five big wagons, loaded with wood and shingles and
all sorts of things like that coming in here from the road," she cried.
"Whatever are they doing here?"
"That's my second surprise," laughed Eleanor. "It's your neighbors from
Cranford, Mrs. Pratt. Don't you recognize Jud Harkness driving the first
team there?"
"Hello, folks!" bellowed Jud, from his seat. "How be you, Mis' Pratt?
Think we'd clean forgot you? We didn't know you was in such an all-fired
lot of trouble, or we'd ha' been here before. We're come now, though,
and we ain't goin' away till you've got a new house. Brought it with
us, by heck!"
He laughed as he descended, and stood before them, a huge, black-bearded
man, but as gentle as a child. And soon everyone could see what he
meant, for the wagons were loaded with timber, and one contained all the
tools that would be needed.
"There'll be twenty of us here to-morrow," he said, "and I guess we'll
show you how to build a house! Won't be as grand as the hotel at
Cranford, mebbe, but you can live in it, and we'll come out when we get
the time and put on the finishing touches. To-night we'll clear away all
this rubbish, and with sun-up in the morning we'll be at work."
Eleanor's eyes shone as she turned to Mrs. Pratt.
"Now you see what I meant when I told you there were plenty of good
friends for you not far from here!" she cried. "As soon as I told Jud
what trouble you were in he thought of this, and in half an hour he'd
got promises from all the men to put in a day's work fixing up a new
house for you."
Mrs. Pratt seemed too dazed to speak.
"But they can't finish a whole house in one day!" declared Margery.
"They can't paint it, and put up wall paper and do everything, Margery,"
said Eleanor. "That's true enough. But they can do a whole lot. You're
used to thinking of city buildings, and that's different. In the country
one or two men usually build a house, and build it well, and when there
are twenty or thirty, why, the work just flies, especially when they're
doing the work for friendship, instead of because they're hired to do
it. Oh, just you wait!"
"Have you ever seen this before!"
"I certainly have! And you're going to see sights to-morrow that will
open your eyes, I can promise you. You know what it's like, Bessie,
don't you? You've seen house raisings before?"
"I certainly have," said Bessie. "And it's fine. Everyone helps and
does the best he can, and it seems no time at all before it's all done."
"Well, we'll do our share," said Eleanor. "The men will be hungry, and
I've promised that we'll feed them."
CHAPTER VI
THE GOOD SAMARITANS
"Well, I certainly have got a better opinion of country people than I
ever used to have, Bessie," said Dolly Ransom. "After the way those
people in Hedgeville treated you and Zara, I'd made up my mind that they
were a nasty lot, and I was glad I'd always lived in the city."
"Well, aren't you still glad of it, Dolly? I really do think you're
better off in the city. There wouldn't be enough excitement about living
in the country for you, I'm afraid."
"Of course there wouldn't! But I think maybe I was sort of unfair to all
country people because the crowd at Hedgeville was so mean to you. And I
like the country well enough, for a little while. I couldn't bear living
there all the time, though. I think that would drive me wild."
"The trouble was that Zara and I didn't exactly belong, Dolly. They
thought her father was doing something wrong because he was a foreigner
and they couldn't understand his ways."
"I suppose he didn't like them much, either, Bessie."
"He didn't. He thought they were stupid. And, of course, in a way, they
were. But not as stupid as he thought they were. He was used to entirely
different things, and--oh, well, I suppose in some places what he did
wouldn't have been talked about, even.
"But in the country everyone knows the business of everyone else, and
when there is a mystery no one is happy until it's solved. That's why
Zara and her father got themselves so disliked. There was a mystery
about them, and the people in Hedgeville just made up their minds that
something was wrong."
"I feel awfully sorry for Zara, Bessie. It must be dreadful for her to
know that her father is in prison, and that they are saying that he was
making bad money. You don't think he did, do you?"
"I certainly do not! There's something very strange about that whole
business, and Miss Eleanor's cousin, the lawyer, Mr. Jamieson, thinks so
too. You know that Mr. Holmes is mighty interested in Zara and her
father."
"He tried to help to get Zara back to that Farmer Weeks who would have
been her guardian if she hadn't come to join the Camp Fire, didn't he?"
"Yes. You see, in the state where Hedgeville is, Farmer Weeks is her
legal guardian, and he could make her work for him until she was
twenty-one. He's an old miser, and as mean as he can be. But once she is
out of that state, he can't touch her, and Mr. Jamieson has had Miss
Eleanor appointed her guardian, and mine too, for that state. The state
where Miss Eleanor and all of us live, I mean."
"Well, Mr. Holmes is trying to get hold of you, too, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is. You ought to know, Dolly, after the way he tried to get us
both to go off with him in his automobile that day, and the way he set
those gypsies on to kidnapping us. And that's the strangest thing of
all."
"Perhaps he wants to know something about Zara, and thinks you can tell
him, or perhaps he's afraid you'll tell someone else something he
doesn't want them to know."
"Yes, it may be that. But that lawyer of his, Isaac Brack, who is so
mean and crooked that no one in the city will have anything to do with
him except the criminals, Mr. Jamieson says, told me once that unless I
went with him I'd never find out the truth about my father and mother
and what became of them."
"Oh, Bessie, how exciting! You never told me that before. Have you told
Mr. Jamieson?"
"Yes, and he just looked at me queerly, and said nothing more about it."
"Bessie, do you know what I think?"
"No. I'm not a mind reader, Dolly!"
"Well, I believe Mr. Jamieson knows more than he has told you yet, or
that he guesses something, anyway. And he won't tell you what it is
because he's afraid he may be wrong, and doesn't want to raise your
hopes unless he's sure that you won't be disappointed."
"I think that would be just like him, Dolly. He's been awfully good to
me. I suppose it's because he thinks it will please Miss Eleanor, and he
knows that she likes us, and wants to do things for us."
"Oh, I know he likes you, too, Bessie. He certainly ought to, after the
way you brought him help back there in Hamilton, when we were there for
the trial of those gypsies who kidnapped us. If it hadn't been for you,
there's no telling what that thief might have done to him."
"Oh, anyone would have done the same thing, Dolly. It was for my sake
that he was in trouble, and when I had a chance to help him, it was
certainly the least that I could do. Don't you think so?"
"Well, maybe that's so, but there aren't many girls who would have known
how to do what you did or who would have had the pluck to do it, even
if they did. I'm quite sure I wouldn't, and yet I'd have wanted to, just
as much as anyone."
"I wish I did know something about my father and mother, Dolly. You've
no idea how much that worries me. Sometimes I feel as if I never would
find out anything."
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