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Title: The Camp Fire Girls at School
Author: Hildegard G. Frey
Release Date: March 25, 2004 [eBook #11718]

[Date last updated: July 1, 2006]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL
or, The Wohelo Weavers
By Hildegard G. Frey
Author of
"The Camp Fire Girls in the Maine Woods",

"Speaking of diaries," said Gladys Evans, "what do you think of this for
one?" She spread out a bead band, about an inch and a half wide and a
yard or more long, in which she had worked out in colors the main events
of her summer's camping trip with the Winnebago Camp Fire Girls. The
girls dropped their hand work and crowded around Gladys to get a better
look at the band, which told so cleverly the story of their wonderful
summer.

"Oh, look," cried "Sahwah" Brewster, excitedly pointing out the figures,
"there's Shadow River and the canoe floating upside down, and Ed Roberts
serenading Gladys--only it turned out to be Sherry serenading Nyoda--and
the Hike, and the Fourth of July pageant, and everything!" The
Winnebagos were loud in their expressions of admiration, and the "Don't
you remembers" fell thick and fast as they recalled the events depicted
in the bead band.

It was a crisp evening in October and the Winnebagos were having their
Work Meeting at the Bradford house, as the guests of Dorothy Bradford,
or "Hinpoha," as she was known in the Winnebago circle. Here were all
the girls we left standing on the boat dock at Loon Lake, looking just
the same as when we saw them last, a trifle less sunburned perhaps, but
just as full of life and spirit. Scissors, needles and crochet hooks
flew fast as the seven girls and their Guardian sat around the cheerful
wood fire in the library. Sahwah was tatting, Gladys and Migwan were
embroidering, and Miss Kent, familiarly known as "Nyoda," the Guardian
of the Winnebago group, was "mending her hole-proof hose," as she
laughingly expressed it. The three more quiet girls in the circle,
Nakwisi the Star Maiden, Chapa the Chipmunk, and Medmangi the Medicine
Man Girl, were working out their various symbols in crochet patterns.
Hinpoha was down on the floor popping corn over the glowing logs and
turning over a row of apples which had been set before the fireplace to
warm. The firelight streaming over her red curls made them shine like
burning embers, until it seemed as if some of the fire had escaped from
the grate and was playing around her face. Every few minutes she reached
out her hand and dealt a gentle slap on the nose of "Mr. Bob," a young
cocker spaniel attached to the house of Bradford, who persistently tried
to take the apples in his mouth. Nyoda finally came to the rescue and
diverted his attention by giving him her darning egg to chew. The room
was filled with the light-hearted chatter of the girls. Sahwah was
relating with many giggles, how she had gotten into a scrape at school.

"And old Professor Fuzzytop made me bring all my books and sit up at
that little table beside his desk for a week. Of course I didn't mind
that a bit, because then I could see what _everybody_ in the room was
doing instead of just the few around me. The only thing I prayed for was
that Miss Muggins wouldn't come in and see me, because she has taken a
sort of fancy to me and makes it easy for me in Latin, but if I ever
fall from grace she won't pass me. But of all the luck, right in the
middle of the Fourth Hour when everybody was in the room studying, in
she walked. I saw her as she opened the door and quick as a wink I
opened up the big dictionary on the table and buried my nose in it, so
she'd think I had gone up there of my own accord. She stopped and looked
at me, then patted me encouragingly on the shoulder and remarked what a
studious girl I was. I thought everybody in the room would die trying
not to laugh, but nobody gave me away. She came in during the Fourth
Hour for several days after that, and every time I flew to the
sheltering arms of the dictionary, and she always made some approving
remark out loud. Now she thinks I'm a shark and I have a better stand-in

than ever with her. She told her Senior session room that there was a
girl in the Junior room who was so keen after knowledge that no matter
when she came into the room she always found her consulting the
dictionary!"

Sahwah's imitation of the elderly and precise Miss Muggins was so close that the girls shrieked with laughter. Even Nyoda, who was a "faculty," and should have been the ally of the deluded instructor, was too much amused to say a word. "By the way, Sahwah," she said when the laughter had died down, "how are you coming on in Latin? The last time I saw you your Cicero had a strangle hold on you." Sahwah made a fearful grimace, and recited sarcastically:

"Not showers to larks more pleasing,
Not sunshine to the bee,
Not sleep to toil more easing,
Than Latin prose to me!

"The flocks shall leave the mountains,
The dew shall flee the rose,
The nymphs forsake the fountains,
Ere I forsake my prose!"

Nyoda laughed and shook her head at Sahwah, and "Migwan," otherwise
Elsie Gardiner, looked up at the despiser of prose composition in mild
wonderment. "I don't see how you can make such a fuss about learning
Latin," she said, "it's the least of my troubles."

"But I'm not such a genius as you," answered Sahwah, "and my head won't stand the strain." Her mental limitations did not seem to cause her any anxiety, however, for she hummed a merry tune as she drew her tatting shuttle in and out.

Migwan leaned back in her chair and looked around the tastefully
furnished room with quiet enjoyment. This library in the Bradford house
was a never-ending delight to her. It was finished in dark oak and the
walls were hung with a rich brown paper. The floor was polished and
covered with oriental rugs, whose patterns she loved to trace. At one
end of the room was a big fireplace and on each side of it a cozy seat,
piled with tapestry covered cushions. Over the fireplace hung two
slender swords, the property of some departed Bradford. The handsome
chairs were upholstered in brown leather to match the other furnishings,
and everything in the room, from the Italian marble Psyche on its
pedestal in the corner to the softly glowing lamps, gave the impression
of wealth and culture. Migwan contrasted it with the shabby sitting room
in her own home and sighed. She was keenly responsive to beautiful
surroundings and would have been happy to stay forever in this library.
But beautiful as the furnishings were, they were the least part of the
attraction. The real drawing card were the books that filled the cases
on three sides of the room. There were books of every kind; fiction,
poetry, history, travel, science; and whole sets of books in handsome
bindings that Migwan fairly revelled in whenever she came to visit.
Hinpoha herself was not fond of reading anything but fiction, and
although she had the freedom of all the cases she never looked at
anything but "story books." Before her parents went to Europe they had
tried making her keep an average of one book of fiction to one of
another kind in the hope of instilling into her a love for essays and
history, but in the absence of her father and mother, history and essays