The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks Part 2

CHAPTER II VERONICA

At four o'clock one afternoon some few days later Hinpoha and Sahwah, breathless from hurrying, ran up the steps of the house where Nyoda lived and rang the bell. The other Winnebagos were already a.s.sembled when they entered, and Nyoda was not there.

"Where's Nyoda?" demanded Sahwah.

"Sh, she's gone over to get-_her_," answered Gladys, smoothing out the folds of her pretty new pleated dress with one hand and tucking in a stray lock with the other.

"What did you say 'sh' for?" demanded Sahwah curiously. "There's no one sleeping, is there?"

"I don't know why I said it," answered Gladys, rumpling up the hair she had just tidied, "I'm so excited about meeting Veronica that I don't know what I'm doing. I just can't sit still." And she jumped up from her chair and began to pace nervously up and down the room.

"Doesn't it remind you of the time we stood on the dock at Loon Lake and waited for Gladys to make her first appearance?" said Hinpoha to Sahwah.

"Don't you remember how we wondered what she would be like and you and Migwah nearly fought over whose affinity she was going to be?"

"Did you really, girls?" said Gladys, pausing in her walk. "And was I as nice as you hoped I'd be?"

Footsteps on the porch saved Hinpoha from having to reply and Gladys hurried to her chair and seated herself properly. A moment later Nyoda entered the room with a young girl beside her whom she led into the center of the group.

"Girls," she said, with one hand on the stranger's shoulder, "this is our new member, Veronica Lehar."

All eyes centered on the newcomer. She was a small, slender girl with short curly black hair, olive complexion, bright red lips and a straight, finely modeled nose. She wore a dark red velvet dress which suited her complexion wonderfully, and fell in soft folds about her lithe form. She was as straight as an arrow and as graceful as a deer. From the crown of her finely poised head to her little fur-topped boots she was an aristocrat. The simple Winnebagos were abashed before her. Never had they met such a high-born little lady. There was an air about her which they could never acquire if they lived a hundred years. They felt like peasants in the presence of a queen. But they forgot her aristocratic air when they looked into her eyes. Large and dark and velvety as a pansy, but so sad it almost broke your heart to look into them. All the sympathy which the girls had worked up for her since hearing her story came back in a rush and they surrounded her with cordial greetings and expressions of welcome. Veronica held her violin, which she had brought over with her, under one arm while she shook hands politely with all the girls. She answered all their pretty speeches in a friendly manner, but she never once smiled, and her eyes had a look as if her thoughts were not there in the room at all, but back in the far country across the ocean. Although she had an accent she spoke a beautiful English, in fact, she used far better language than the majority of American schoolgirls, and more than once the girls felt embarra.s.sed when they had forgotten themselves so far as to utter a slang phrase.

Conversation soon languished, for Veronica did not seem inclined to talk, so Nyoda started the girls singing camp songs to amuse her, and led the talk around to the Winnebagos' doings which she was now to take part in.

Of course the new lodge was the main topic of conversation with the Winnebagos and they waxed so enthusiastic over its splendors that Veronica exclaimed with some show of warmth, "Oh, I must see it soon!"

Then she added, "Tell me what I must do to become a Camp Fire Girl like yourselves."

"You must have a symbolic name," answered Gladys eagerly, anxious to be the one to explain things to Veronica, "and a Ceremonial dress, and learn the songs, and know the Camp Fire Girls' Desire, and the Winnebago pa.s.swords and oh, lots of delightful things."

"What are they, the Winnebago pa.s.swords, and what are they for?" asked Veronica.

"Well," answered Gladys, "you know what a pa.s.sword is, don't you? Well, we have pa.s.swords to admit us into the Lodge on Ceremonial night. But before I tell you about the pa.s.swords I must tell you about the signal calls, for they come first in order. You see, the general signal of the Winnebagos is the call of the whippoorwill, like this"-and she ill.u.s.trated her words with a clear call. "You repeat that three times and at the end of it you must give your own individual bird call. We all have different ones. Mine is the robin, like this. Nyoda's is the bluebird; Hinpoha's the loon; Medmangi's is the owl; Nakwisi's the meadowlark and Sahwah's the catbird."

"Whatever made you take such a hideous screech for your call, Sahwah?"

interrupted Hinpoha. "There are lots of nicer bird calls than that of the catbird."

"I don't care, I wanted the catbird," returned Sahwah. "It suits my individuality, as my dear friend, Miss Snively, would say. I am the 'cat that walks by himself and all places are alike to me!'"

"Be a catbird as much as you like," said Gladys pacifically, "as long as you don't eat us poor bird-birds. But to go back to the pa.s.swords. You see, Nyoda is Guardian of the Fire, and she always goes up to the Lodge room first on Ceremonial night. If any of us get there ahead of her we have to stay out until she comes. Then we announce our coming by giving the call of the whippoorwill and she knows one of the Winnebagos is below; and she knows which one it is by the individual bird call. So she calls out 'Who goes there?' and we answer 'A friend.' When she says, 'Stand and give the countersign,' we have to say, 'Other Council Fires were here before.'"

"What does that mean, 'Other Council Fires were here before?'" asked Veronica.

The girls looked at one another. "What does it mean?" asked Gladys.

"I don't know," said Sahwah.

"I don't know," said Hinpoha.

"You insisted on our having it, Sahwah," said Gladys. "Why did you choose it if you didn't know what it meant?"

"Oh," explained Sahwah lightly, "I saw it written over the door of one of the historical buildings at the Exposition, and it sounded as if it might mean something grand, so I chose it. You girls were all delighted with it, so that's proof it's a good catch-word."

"It is a good countersign," said Nyoda, "although I confess I can't tell wherein the charm lies."

"Well, to proceed," said Gladys, "after you have given the countersign you will be asked to give the Inner Pa.s.s Word, and then you must say 'Kolah Olowan.' That means 'Song Friend.' You know we pride ourselves on being a singing group, that is, we have a great many songs that we sing together, and I think our dearest friends are those we sing with. So we Winnebagos call each other 'Song Friends,' or friends bound together by the power of our familiar songs. That's why we chose bird notes for our personal symbols. The birds are the original Song Friends. What bird are you going to choose for your own, Veronica?"

Veronica's sad eyes stared thoughtfully into the fire for a moment. Then they filled with a smouldering light. "I shall be the gull that flies over the sea," she said in a low voice, "because some day I am going to fly over the sea to my dear home."

"We were all nearly ready to cry when she said that," wrote Gladys to Migwan, "only Nyoda popped up then and asked Hinpoha and Sahwah to sing 'The Owl and the p.u.s.s.ycat,' and they climbed on the sofa for the beautiful pea-green boat-you know what a beautiful pea-green it is-and for a small guitar Nyoda gave Sahwah a little pasteboard fiddle that produced three notes when you turned a crank, and the whole thing was so ridiculous that we laughed until our sides ached."

After the Owl and the p.u.s.s.ycat had sung themselves over the back of the sofa and down on the floor with a thump Nyoda made tea in her new electric teapot and pa.s.sed platefuls of thin sandwiches, and Sahwah upset her cup into her lap demonstrating how perfectly she could balance it on her knee and had to stand before the fire to dry her skirt.

"You brought your violin along; won't you play for us?" asked Nyoda of Veronica when the excitement over Sahwah's mishap had subsided.

In graceful compliance with Nyoda's request, and without waiting to be urged, Veronica took her violin from its case, settled it under her chin with a movement that was a caress, and drew the bow across the strings.

With the first note teacups and sandwiches were forgotten and the girls sat in a spellbound circle, while Sahwah stopped mopping her skirt with her handkerchief and the wet spot dried and scorched unheeded. Such a witching melody as rose from the strings-now light as a fairy dancing on a bubble, now hurrying like the brook over its pebbles, now sighing like the wind in a rose tree, now slow and stately like the curtseying of a grande dame in the movements of a court dance. When it came to an end the girls sat breathless, too dazed to applaud.

"Play some more!" begged Gladys in a whisper. It seemed like a desecration to talk.

Veronica played on, now fast, now slow, now sad and now gay, and finally whirled into a wild gypsy dance that set the blood tingling in her hearers' veins as the swift measures followed on each other's heels, until they could see in their mind's eye the leaping figures of the dancers in their bright costumes. Faster, faster, flashed the bow on the magic strings and Veronica's whole soul was in her eyes as she played the familiar strains of her homeland. Her lips parted in a flashing smile and one foot tapped the carpet in time to the music.

Suddenly a string snapped with a discordant crash. Veronica came to herself with a start. The light left her eyes and she stood staring into the fire with a sad, bitter expression.

CHAPTER III AN UNINVITED GUEST

Rain fell in torrents on the roof of the hospitable House of the Open Door, and the wind howled dismally around its friendly gables. Inside the "lofty loft" of the Winnebagos the fire shone brightly on the hearth and the rafters rang with merriment. Sahwah had a new hobby, and was riding it to death. This was a Hawaiian guitar, known as a "ukelele," from which she was producing a series of hair-raising noises.

"Sounds like a cat in its last agony," remarked Hinpoha.

"Well, that just suits me," replied Sahwah, undisturbed, drawing a long shivering wail from the strings. "I am the cat that walks by himself--"

"And all racket is alike to you," finished Hinpoha. "Who's getting supper tonight, Nyoda? I'm nearly starving."

"I appointed Gladys and Veronica," answered Nyoda. "The combination of blonde and brunette ought to produce something pretty good."

Gladys promptly laid down the bit of leather in which she was cutting a pattern and moved toward the "kitchen end" of the Lodge. "Come on, Veronica," she said, "let's make a carload of scones for these hungry wolves."

Veronica looked up at her without moving. On her face was an expression of surprise; almost amazement. "What, _I_ cook?" she asked scornfully.

"That is for servants to do!"

Then it was the Winnebagos' turn to look amazed. Sahwah dropped her instrument on the floor with a clatter, and the rest sat silent, not knowing what to say to Veronica. Nyoda bridged over the embarra.s.sing situation as best she could. "I'll be cook tonight," she said quietly. As she moved about helping Gladys she thought and thought how this new problem must be met. "It's the fault of her training," she told herself, "and she really isn't a sn.o.b at heart. She'll be all right when she has been with the girls awhile and watched them. It won't do to insist on her doing the things she considers beneath her. She must be made to want to do them first. But we'll make a real Winnebago of her in time!" And her eyes strayed thoughtfully over to the corner of the hearth where Veronica sat, a little apart from the rest, her brooding eyes on the fire, her sensitive lip twisting into involuntary shivers of disgust when Sahwah produced a particularly ear-splitting yowl.