Ethel Hollister's Second Summer as a Campfire Girl

The morning after Ethel had declared herself her mother came up to her room. She could see that Mrs. Hollister had not slept and her eyes were red from weeping. Ethel kissed her, saying:

"Mamma, we are going to be very happy together-you and I. I don't want to disappoint you, dear, nor would I do so willingly; but I simply can not live as I've been living. Sit down and let us talk."

Then she told of Aunt Susan,-of her kindness, unselfishness and self-sacrifice. She told of Mattie and how they had helped her, and of her Uncle John; of Patty and Judge Sands; and lastly of Kate and what a wonderful character she was.

"Wait, dear, I want to show you my ceremonial gown," and she quickly slipped it on. The girl's hair was still hanging unbound, having slept in it that way, and she hooked about it her coronation band. Said her mother:

"Well, I must say it is becoming. What a Pocahontas you would make in private theatricals!" she exclaimed with maternal pride; "But then, why should I speak of theatricals? You've given up all such things."

"Why, Mamma," laughed Ethel, "I'm not going into a convent. I have given up nothing but the unreal part of life."

"I suppose you'll tell everyone how poor we are, and how I have put you forward under false colors. Then people will despise me."

"No, Mamma, I shall not do a thing to put you in any awkward position. Keep on. Give your teas for me if you wish,-even have the two extra maids. It costs very little and we have a social time; it cheers Grandmamma and there's no need to stop them. But this is what I shall not do: First I shall tell Harvey Bigelow that Aunt Susan was once a millionaire but that she lost all of her money. I shall tell of her wonderful gifts to Akron,-of her charities, and how well she is beloved, but that I shall inherit no money from her. Harvey will tell his mother and she'll spread the news. If people care any the less for us after hearing it, let them go; but I don't propose to tell what Papa's salary is, or that you-poor dear-sit until morning sewing for me,-a thing that I'm not going to allow you to do any longer.

"Then I shall give up attending Madam's. Yes, don't start. Every bill Papa pays is a nail in his coffin, I know. Tomorrow I shall go to Barnard and try to pass an examination, and for one quarter what Madam charges I can get a sound and solid education, and were Papa to die I can leave with my teacher's diploma knowing something that will be of use to me. I could help support you and Grandmamma. What could I do were I forced to support myself after leaving Madam's. Why, an education such as her girls receive is of no earthly account unless for music or such accomplishments; but with a degree from Barnard I can earn good money. I am so glad that I am young and that I shall have a chance. You'll be proud of me, Mamma,-just wait and see," and she kissed her mother affectionately.

They went down to breakfast. Archibald Hollister listened to his daughter's plans. He was proud of her and his face showed it.

"You see, Papa," continued Ethel, "every penny is spent on me. Do you and Mamma ever go to a theatre? No. Do you ever take a drive? Never,-why? Because you can't spare the money. Now at least we shall be able to go to the moving picture shows and take Grandmamma. I bet you'd enjoy it, wouldn't you, Grandmamma? And, do you know, the best people go, and a quarter is the highest priced seat."

The girl chatted on until the postman delivered the mail.

"Oh! a letter from Kate. Let's see what news she has written," and she gave a gasp as she read the first page.

"Poor Mrs. Casey died Saturday from pneumonia. Nora is heartbroken, and poor Pat Casey acts as though he knew not which way to turn. Nora looks really refined in black,-almost handsome. She loved Mrs. Casey, who in spite of her peculiarities was a good wife and mother. Later: Mr. Casey wishes to take Nora away. He suggested New York, so you may see her, etc."

Then Ethel described Honora.

"It is strange but I can never like that girl. There's something about her that's antagonistic to me, and yet when she comes here I must be polite and ask her to visit me."

"If she's in mourning she'll not expect to meet people," said Mrs.

Hollister quickly, "nor to go to any places of amusement, thank heavens."

"Oh, she's very generous. Probably she'd invite us, Mamma. Well, poor

Nora, she loved her mother. I'm sorry for her."

The next morning Ethel Hollister walked up to Barnard and put in her application for admittance. The following week upon her first examination she failed, but she entered the class with conditions. The girl studied hard and soon made good.

She liked the girls of her class. They were intelligent, athletic, and agreeable.

Her former friends and companions from La Rue's declared that of late-in fact, since she had become a Camp Fire Girl-Ethel Hollister had developed fads. This Barnard was one. But as Ethel kept on steadily progressing in college, and she was so very young-not yet seventeen-people began to consider her a girl of great ability and intelligence. Mrs. Hollister grew to be proud of hearing her praised on every side and Archibald seemed less worried over money matters. She was rather glad that things had changed. Perhaps it was all for the best, and people would respect them no less.

Grandmother never wearied of hearing her grandchild tell of her visit. "And to think," she'd say, "that Susan has had all the trouble she tells of and has made no sign. How gladly would I have helped her. Still, had I done so we would have had no house. Well, the Lord knows what's best. We could only have offered her a home. I'm glad the Insane Asylum was endowed and the boys educated before the crash came."

Nora did not visit New York in the winter. She went South with her father. The girls-Kate and Ethel-corresponded, and in that way Ethel heard all of the news. The Judge came often and took Patty and Kate on long motor trips. Mattie was doing nicely. She was employed in a Woman's Exchange where she received twelve dollars a week and taught cooking and sewing. Mollie was improving daily. Mr. Hastings had a fine position with Judge Sands. Honora was away, but the rest of the girls were as usual. The Camp Fires met weekly and everyone missed Ethel, but no one missed her as did Aunt Susan. "Why," wrote Kate, "she says the light has gone out of her life, and Tom roams around disconsolate. But," she added, "you should see the up-to-date way in which he dresses. He is the pink of fashion, I tell you."

Ethel laughed, and while reading would stop every now and then to explain.

Then Ethel answered:

"I have joined Miss Westcott's Camp Fire Girls, and if you believe it, Mamma goes with me. She doesn't like it, but she's a great help to me and to the girls, for she teaches them so much. She's consistent and it will take her some time to overcome her prejudices. Nanny Bigelow belongs, and Harvey takes us when Mamma can not go. By the way, Harvey seems quite interested in medicine, and after graduating he is going to study it. We call him 'Doctor' Bigelow.

"Dorothy Kip's Day Nursery has proved a great success. It is the dearest little flat, and the babies are sweet. Dorothy's old woman is a great help, and I want you to know that Dorothy works hard. Why, she almost runs the place on contributions and her allowance, and the little ones are just as happy and comfortable as possible. She has books and toys, and we girls take turns in going in and reading to the elder children, as well as amusing the younger ones. That is a good charity, and Grandmother (Kate noticed that Ethel had begun to call Mrs. Hollister 'Mother' and the old lady 'Grandmother') goes nearly every pleasant day and takes flowers. She generally spends the afternoon with them, so in a small way Dorothy Kip is emulating Jane Addams. Who knows but some day she may be her equal,-Oh!"

The second letter said:

"I must tell you something. The other evening Harvey Bigelow called. You

know I never liked him any more than I liked Mattie nor Nora. Now I like

Mattie and I am beginning to like Harvey. I hope I shall change towards

Nora, but I see no sign now. Well, Harvey began.

"'Miss Ethel,' he said, 'I've determined to become a physician. I presume you've heard that, and I'm determined to become a good one, too. You may not know it, but I have always liked boys. I don't say that I dislike girls,-but I do like boys. (Harvey is developing a sense of humor.) When I visited my college chum-Joe Atkinson-this last summer, I was surprised to learn that he was the Scout Master to a troop of eight boys. He lives in Springfield, Illinois. I had a corking visit and a fine time with the kids, two of whom are his young brothers.

"'Do you know, I became mightily interested in the movement. I have studied and watched it and I think it's the finest thing ever started. I came home quite enthusiastic and I talked of it to the two younger Kip boys and Alan McAllister,-Grace's brother. If you'll believe it, before I realized what I'd done, these boys had formed a troop and began to importune me to be the Scout Master of it. There's the two Kips, Tom Wilder (Sara Judson's cousin), a brother of Grace McAllister, Tommy Westcott, and my cousin, Jack Atwater, besides two other boys from the East Side Y.M.C.A. Miss Westcott, the Guardian of the Camp Fire Girls, asked that they might be allowed to join, making eight in all.'

"I caught him by the hand and I said:

"'Harvey Bigelow, I take off my hat to you. I never liked you so well in my life."

"He blushed awfully and seemed embarrassed, but he simply said:

"'Don't you think it about time that I became in earnest over something in life? The opportunity presented itself and I grasped it-that's all.'

"Well, to make a long story short, several of these boys are desirous of going West next summer and spending their vacations instead of East, and he called to ask me about the Muskingum Camp. He is going there, Kate, and he'll be near us. I made him write to Mr. Adams-your father's man-who did everything for us, and ask him to reserve a place for the Scouts. I'm just wild for summer to come. I'm going to bring Mother and Grandmother. Grandmother will visit Aunt Susan, and Mother can spend her time between Aunt Susan's, your house, and the Camp. She doesn't say much but I really think the change is a relief to her-poor dear little mother. I was the selfish juggernaut who made her sacrifice everyone for me. I realize it now, and thank God it's not too late to mend.

"I am doing finely at college. I should like to form from some of my class another Company of Camp Fire Girls, but the trouble is they are too busy with study. They say that they're worn out when summer comes and have to go away to rest, but they intend to join during their third year. Then it won't be such a continuous grind as it is now.

"I am so glad that I had the good sense to start in college. I intend to be self-supporting after I graduate. I consider it a glorious thing for an unmarried woman-don't you?

"Well, dear, I must close. Kiss Uncle John, etc."

That was great news for Kate-that Harvey Bigelow should have become a man. It was too good to be true. She sent the letter to Aunt Susan, whom she knew would be interested in it.

"I tell you, Ethel is made of good stuff!" ejaculated Uncle John. "She was in the right church but in the wrong pew-that's all."

Vacation arrived. Ethel had acquitted herself well, and her examinations were excellent. She and her mother began making preparations to go West.

This time it was Grandmother and Mrs. Hollister whose wardrobes needed replenishing. Ethel bought for herself two new suits and some blouses. She had actually outgrown hers of the preceding summer.

"My dear, I am spending very little money now," said Mrs. Hollister, "and

I'm going to put some by for your trousseau."

Ethel laughed merrily.

"Why, Mother, where's the man?"

"Never mind," replied her mother, "he'll come."

"Mother, you're a born matchmaker!" exclaimed the girl. "I wish you had had other daughters."

"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Mrs. Hollister with a funny little smile.

"One is enough."

"Is that intended for a compliment?" laughed the girl. "If so it's a doubtful one."

During the month of May, Harvey would invite her to go horseback riding up to Van Cortlandt Park. They had to make it Saturdays, as that was Ethel's only free day. They usually started early. On the country roads the apple and peach blossoms were like pictures. To the girl they brought back the previous spring at Aunt Susan's, and especially the morning when she had revealed to Ethel the sad story of her married life. On one of these excursions the girl related it to Harvey.

"By George!" he ejaculated when she had finished, "that old lady is a sport and no mistake. She's all right. I imagined she was made of different stuff from other women, and do you know I sort of suspected that she hadn't all the money that your mother thought she had. She was too refined and showed good blood. Had she been so wealthy, from her dressing people might have taken her for a miser, and gentle folks are seldom misers. I thought that it was necessity that caused her to wear those old-fashioned clothes, so I argued that though Mrs. Hollister imagined her wealthy and that you were in a line to inherit her money there was a great mistake somewhere. But pshaw! as for that every mother is ambitious for her daughter. Why, my mother left no stone unturned until she had married Edith to Lord Ashurst, and I must admit that I was easily led by my mother. Why, I've been out for a rich wife ever since I left school; but, Ethel, I've changed. Now I propose to pay my bills with the money I earn, not with hers; nor shall I allow her to buy what she wears."

"Does your mother realize how you feel?" asked Ethel, pushing her fair, curling locks from her eyes.

"Bless you, yes. She and I had one long talk, and after it I tell you there was something doing in the Bigelow family; but Nannie who has lots of horse sense sided with me, and together we were too many for mother. She saw that it was up to her to make the best of it and she did, but like your mother she still cherishes her ambitions. Nan said to her:

"'You have one daughter who has done the grand marriage stunt and she's some class. Do let us choose for ourselves."

"What did your mother say to that?" laughed Ethel.

"I think she boxed Nannie's ears and then apologized. She loses her self-control sometimes. Poor mother," and Harvey laughed. "Nannie has some temper, too, and don't you make any mistake."

Ethel was beginning to have a real friendly feeling for Harvey. He asked many questions about her cousin Kate.

"She rings true," he said. "I liked her from the first."

"She is true," replied Ethel. "You'll see her this summer, and I'm sure you'll like Uncle John and his wife. He's just a dear."

Those were red letter days for Ethel. She enjoyed the air, the scenery, and the rides; and she enjoyed talking to Harvey, for now that he understood she could talk to him as though he were one of the family-without restriction and without embarrassment.

"What puzzles me," said Ethel, "is the way our mothers argue. When they plan our marriages it's only money and position. Love never seems to enter into their heads. Oh! I grew so tired of it. Thank God it's over, and our family are now normal. Even Grandmother wished me to marry well. I had far rather be an old maid than to be tied to a man for whom I care nothing, and have to sit opposite and pour tea for him three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. Imagine the horrible monotony of that. I heard that advice given to a girl in a play and I never forgot it; and if only girls could be brought to realize beforehand the sin of it there would be fewer unhappy marriages."