The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp

From Douglas Carter to her mother, Mrs. Robert Carter

Greendale, Va., August -, 19-.

My darling Mother:

Words cannot express the joy and gratitude all of us feel that father is really getting well. I shall never forget the miserable time last spring when Dr. Wright came into the library where Helen and Nan and Lucy and I were sitting and told us of his very serious condition. I had felt he was in a very bad way but did not realize it was quite so dreadful. I am sure you did not, either. And when Dr. Wright said that you must take him on a long sea voyage and we understood that we were to be left behind, the bottom seemed to drop out of the universe.

And now, dear mother, I have a confession to make: You took for granted we were going to the springs when we wrote we were to spend the summer in the mountains, and we thought with all the worry you had about father, perhaps it was best to let you go on thinking it. Of course you did not dream of the necessity of our doing anything to make money as father had never told you much about his finances. Well, mother dear, there was about $80 in the bank in father's private account. Fortunately for the business, which Mr. Lane and Dick have carried on to the best of their ability, there was some more in another account, but we have managed without touching that. I hope I am not going to shock you now, but you shall have to know it-we have rented our lovely home, furnished, for six months with privilege of a year, and we have sold the car, dismissed the servants-all but Susan and Oscar, who are up here at Greendale with us. This is what might shock you: We are running a week-end boarding camp here in the mountains and the really shocking part of it is-we are making money!

It was a scheme that popped into Helen's head and it seemed such an excellent one that we fell to it, and with dear Cousin Lizzie Somerville chaperoning us and Lewis Somerville protecting us, we have opened our camp and actually would have to turn away boarders except that the boys are always willing to sleep out-of-doors and that makes room for others not so inclined.

We see Dr. Wright quite often. He comes up for the Sunday in his car whenever he can spare the time. He has been kindness itself and has helped us over many rough places. There have been times when we have been downhearted and depressed over you and father, and then it has been his office to step in and reassure us that father was really getting better. He and Bobby are sworn friends and there is nothing Bobby will not do for him-even keep himself clean.

We are well. Indeed, the mountain air has done wonders for all of us. Helen is working harder than any of us, but is the picture of health in spite of it. Nan is more robust than she has ever been in her life. I think the tendency she has always had to bronchitis has entirely disappeared. Dr. Wright says it is sleeping out-of-doors that has fixed her. Lucy has grown two inches, I do believe. She has been very sweet and helpful and as happy as the day is long with her chum Lil Tate here for the whole summer. Mrs. Tate brought her up for a week-end and the child has been with us now for over two months. We have two boys of fifteen who are here for the summer, too, Frank Maury and Skeeter Halsey. They are a great comfort to me as I feel sure Lucy and Lil will be taken care of by these nice boys.

Of course, the original idea of our camp was to have only week-end boarders, but we find it very nice to have some steadies besides as that means a certain fixed amount of money, but I am not going to let you worry your pretty head about money. We have a perennial guest, also-none other than pretty, silly Tillie Wingo. She came to the opening week-end and proved herself to be such a drawing card for the male sex that we decided it would be good business to ask her to visit us indefinitely. It was Nan's idea. You know Tillie well enough to understand that she is always thoroughly good-natured and kind without being helpful in any way. All she has to do is look pretty and chatter and giggle. Of course she must dance, and she does that divinely. She is a kind of social entertainer, and the number of youths who swarm to Week-End Camp because of her would astonish you. She is certainly worth her keep. Here I am touching on finances again when I did not mean to at all.

We are so happy at the thought of having you and father with us for the rest of the summer. Dr. Wright thinks the life here will be almost as good for father as that on shipboard, provided the week-enders do not make too much racket for him. If they do, we are to have a tent pitched for him out of ear-shot. Poor Cousin Lizzie Somerville is very happy over your coming because it will release her. Her duties as chaperone have not been very strenuous, but the life up here has been so different from anything she has ever had before that it has been hard on her, I know, harder than she has ever divulged, I am sure. Now she can go to her beloved springs and play as many games of cards as she chooses.

Dr. Wright says it would be better for you not to go to Richmond at all before coming here, as father might want to go to work again, and it is very important for him to be kept from it for many months yet. He is to meet you in New York and bring you straight to Greendale. I can go down to Richmond with you after we get father settled here, and we can get what clothes you want for the mountains. We have everything in the way of clothes stored at Cousin Lizzie Somerville's.

It is very lovely here at Greendale, and I do hope you and father will like it as much as we have. Dr. Wright will tell you more about it when he meets you in New York on Wednesday. I am sending this letter by him as it seems safer than to trust to Uncle Sam.

We only hope the life up here will not be too rough for you. We will do all we can to smooth it for you; but a camp is a camp, you know, dear mother. Our best love to father.

Your loving daughter,

Douglas.

* * *

"Oh, Douglas, I'm all of a tremble!" declared Helen Carter, as she knotted her jaunty scarlet tie and settled her gray felt hat at exactly the proper angle. "To think that they are really coming back!"

"I can hardly believe it. The time has gone quickly and still it seems somehow as though we had been living in this camp for ages. I am afraid it will go hard with the poor little mother."

"Cousin Lizzie stood it and she is years and years older than mother," and Helen looked critically at her dainty nose and rubbed a little powder on it.

"Yes, I know, but Cousin Lizzie is made of sterner stuff than poor little mumsy. I think that mother is the kind of woman that men would fight to protect but when all is told that Cousin Lizzie is the kind who would go out and help fight if need be. I can fancy her loading rifles and handing them to the men--"

"So can I," laughed Helen, "and saying as she loaded: 'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; a time to kill and a time to heal.'"

"I am ashamed of myself-but somehow I am glad Cousin Lizzie did not think it was her duty to defer her going until mother and father got here. She has been splendid and too good to us for anything, but it is a kind of relief for her to be out of the cabin and away before they come," said Douglas as she completed her rapid dressing by pulling an old khaki hat down over her rather refractory, if very lovely Titian hair.

"I know just what you mean. I hoped all the time she would realize that the morning train was much the better one for her to get off on, and then she could reach the springs in time for an afternoon game. It was a feeling I had that she might be too critical of poor little mumsy. You see we don't know just how camp life is going to appeal to mumsy," said Helen.

"Exactly! It may take her a while to get used to it," and Douglas let a little sigh escape her. "I wish they could have arrived on any other day than Friday. Our week-ends in August have been so full. I fancy many of the week-enders will want to stay on for holidays, too."

"If it is only not too much for father. Dr. Wright thinks it won't be. He says noise in the open air is so different from housed noises for nervous persons."

A honk from the faithful old mountain goat, a name they had given the ancient Ford that Bill Tinsley had contributed to the camp's use, warned them it was time to start for the station. One more dab of powder on Helen's nose completed her toilet and calling to Nan and Lucy to pile in, they started their ever perilous descent of the mountain to Greendale.

Bobby, who had been captured by a determined Susan and washed and dressed in honor of his returning parents, was occupying the seat of state in Josh's cart, clean but indignant at the outrage committed.

"'Tain't no sense in washin'. I mos' wisht I'd been born a pig. If I had, I betcher I'd a been a pet pig an' some fool woman would er wanted to curl my tail and tie a bow 'round my neck."

Such pessimism was too much for Josh, who shook with laughter as the slab-sided mule, Josephus, limped cheerfully down the mountain road.

To think that mother and father were really coming! The Carter girls lined themselves along the little station awaiting the train bearing the beloved passengers. What a healthy-looking quartette they were after a whole summer in the open. Douglas' fair skin was reddened from exposure and her hair showed the lack of care that her mother had always exacted. Douglas attached very little importance to her appearance, and was constantly being put to rights by the more correct Helen. Even now, as they waited for the train, Helen was regretting that she had permitted her older sister to wear the very disgraceful-looking khaki hat.

"Khaki color is certainly unbecoming to blondes," she thought. "I do want Douglas to look her best for mother. Father will think all of us are beautiful, anyhow, no matter what we wear," and Helen could not help a feeling of satisfaction over her own very becoming cold-gravy costume with the touch of scarlet at her throat. It had seen much service but still had that unmistakable air of style that was characteristic of all of Helen Carter's belongings.

Nan was quite robust-looking for Nan. She had inherited from her mother that soft black hair and those dusky eyes and a complexion of wondrous fairness that is seen sometimes in a rare type of Creole beauty. Mrs. Carter's almost angelic beauty (her few enemies called it doll-like) was repeated in her daughter in a somewhat more sturdy edition. Nan's mouth was larger and her eyes not quite so enormous; her nose a bit broader at the base and her chin squarer. Her attractive countenance showed a mixture of poetic feeling and sturdy common sense with a plentiful seasoning of humor and gave promise of her development into a very enchanting woman. All Nan asked of life was plenty of books and time to read them and a cloak of invisibility so that she would not be noticed. She was gradually overcoming the shyness that had always made her think that next to a cloak of invisibility the greatest boon her fairy godmother could grant her would be seven-league boots, so that she could get away from all embarrassing persons even if she could not hide from them. The summer of camping had certainly taken from her the look of fragility that had always been a source of uneasiness to her father but which her beautiful mother had rather prided herself on as it was in her eyes a mark of race and breeding.

Lucy Carter, the youngest of the four, was developing rapidly into a very attractive girl. Her resemblance to Helen was growing more marked, much to her pretended disgust, but to her secret delight. Already her long legs had shot her saucy head up to within a level of Helen's, which made the younger sister ecstatically confident of her equality with the elder, whom in her heart of hearts she considered a paragon of perfection but with whom she was usually on sparring terms.

Bobby, the idolized little brother, had changed more than any of the Carters during that summer. He had lost forever the baby curves and had taken on a lean, wiry spareness. His almost unearthly beauty was gone by reason of a great gap in his face caused by the loss of his first teeth. One permanent tooth had found its way through and, as is the way with the first permanent tooth, seemed very enormous in contrast to the tiny little pearls that had hitherto passed for teeth. His knees were scarred and scratched as were his lean brown legs. Two sore toes were tied up in dirty rags, having been ministered to by Aunt Mandy, the kind old mountain woman who bore the proud distinction in Bobby's mind of being the mother of Josh the boy and the owner of Josephus the mule.

"I hear the whistle!" exclaimed Lucy, prancing with excitement.

"So do I, but it is the saw mill over in the hollow," drawled Nan.

"Won't it be terrible if the train is late and all the week-enders get here before mother and father?" wailed Helen.

"Awful!" exclaimed Douglas. "If we can only get them settled in the cabin before the hullabaloo begins, maybe it won't seem so bad to them. I just can't stand it if the camp is going to be too much for father."

"I'm most sure he will like it, but it's mother who will be the one to kick," said Nan. Kicking was not a very elegant way to express what no doubt would be the state of Mrs. Carter's mind over the rough camp life.

"She's a-comin' now!" shouted Bobby. "I kin hear her a-chuggin' up grade! Listen! This is what she says: 'Catch a nigger! Catch a nigger! I'm a-comin'! I'm a-comin'!'" and the scion of the Carter family whistled shrilly through his sparse teeth, an accomplishment that had but recently come to him by reason of his loss.

It was the train and on time, which would give the youthful proprietors of the week-end boarding camp time to get their invalid father and dainty mother safely stowed away in the cabin before the onrush of harum-scarum guests should begin.

"Thank heaven!" was the pious ejaculation of the older girls.

Douglas and Helen felt all the qualms and responsibilities that had been theirs on the opening of the camp at the beginning of the summer. It had proved such a success that confidence had come to them, but now that their parents were to join them, although they were very happy at the thought of seeing them, they had grave doubts about the way in which their mother would look upon their venture and about the ability of their father to endure the noise and confusion.

Dr. Wright, who had gone to New York to meet the steamer, got off first, laden with parcels. Then came Mrs. Carter, looking so young and pretty that her daughters felt suddenly very mature. Mr. Carter followed his wife. He also was laden with bandboxes and bundles, while the grinning porter emerged with some difficulty from under a mass of suitcases, steamer rugs and dress boxes. Lewis Somerville extricated him in time for him to jump on the departing train as it made its laborious way up the steep grade, still singing the song that Bobby had declared it sang: "Catch a nigger! Catch a nigger! I'm a-comin'! I'm a-comin'!"

"My girls! My girls!" Mrs. Carter flew from one to the other like a butterfly who cannot tell which flower to light on, but Robert Carter dropped his parcels and enfolded all of them in a mighty embrace. How lean and brown he was! On sight he seemed like his old self to Helen, who was the first to find her way to his eager arms and the last to leave their encircling shelter. A closer scrutiny of his face, however, told her there was still something wrong. His snap and vim were gone. Intelligence shone from his kind blue eyes and his countenance bespoke contentment and happiness, but his old sparkle and alertness were missing. The overworked nerves had lost their elasticity and a certain power that had been a part of Robert Carter was gone forever. It was the power of leading and directing, taking the initiative. There was something very pathetic about it all, just as though a great general had been reduced to the ranks and must ever after serve as a private. What made it sadder was that he seemed content to follow. Someone else must work out the problem of how to keep his expensive family in all the luxuries they had demanded. It was no longer up to him! That was the way his expression impressed Helen. She escaped from the others and ran behind the little station.

"Father! Father!" she sobbed in an agony of love and misery. "He is not well yet! He never will be!"

"Oh yes, he will," said a quiet, deep voice. It belonged to George Wright, who had come around the other side of the waiting room after helping Lewis Somerville deposit the luggage in Josh's cart. "He is much better, better than I dared dream he would be. You see, he has had only four months and I said all the time it would take a year of rest and maybe more. What makes you think he is still so badly off?"

Dr. Wright had a ridiculous notion that he could explain to Helen much better her father's condition if she would only put her head on his shoulder and do her sobbing there, but he buried his hands firmly in his pockets and made no intimation of his idea. He had constantly to take himself to task for forgetting that Helen was little more than a child. "You must wait, you fool!" he would reason with himself.

"But suppose someone else doesn't wait and she gets snapped up before your eyes-what then?" But wait he felt he must, and in the meantime Helen often felt that his sternness meant disapproval and wondered what she had done to merit it-that is, what new thing. Of course she always knew she had merited his disapproval by her behavior when he had given the verdict that her father must go off on the voyage for health. And now when he said: "What makes you think he is still so badly off?" he sounded very stern and superior.

"He seems so-so-meek," she faltered.

"Well, who would not be meek with all those parcels?" he laughed. "Your mother had only part of a day in New York, but she bought out the town. I'm meek myself."

The conversation was interrupted by Lucy, who was always eager to find out what Helen was doing so she could do it too. When she saw her sister's tear-stained countenance she bitterly regretted her dry eyes but cry she could not, especially as she did not see anything to cry about.

Mrs. Carter, meanwhile, after flitting from daughter to daughter, had cried out: "But Bobby! Where is my precious Bobby?"

"Here me!" said that youngster. "We uns ain't fur."

"Bobby! Bobby! I didn't know you! Where are your teeth? Why did you have your hair cut so short? My baby, my baby!" and the poor little lady enfolded a rather abashed boy in her arms.

"Baby your grandmother! I ain't nobody's baby. We uns is Dr. Wright's shover cept'n when we uns is in the mountings and thin we uns is the 'spressman's sisterant."

"We uns? What do you mean, Bobby?" wailed the mother.

"I say we uns whenever we uns thinks to do it. That's the way mountingyears talks."

"Robert! Robert, look at Bobby and listen to him!"

Mr. Carter did look at Bobby and the remembrance of his own boyhood came back to him and he laughed as he seldom did now-a-days.

"Well, bless my soul, what a great big son I have got!" and he slapped Bobby on the back. "I fancy you are too big to kiss, you rascal!"

"I ain't too big to kiss if you uns comes behind the station where Josh'n Josephus can't see us," and Bobby led his willing parent behind the station where Helen had gone to shed a bitter tear and where Dr. Wright had discovered her and where Lucy had discovered them.

"Oh, shucks! They's too many folks here," he declared.

"Will all of you please step out of the way?" begged Mr. Carter. "Bobby has an important thing to discuss with me and we should like the back of the station to ourselves for a moment."

Left alone, the big man held his little son tight in his arms and in spite of Bobby's boasted manhood he was very happy to be once more hugged and kissed by his father.

Dr. Wright smiled into Helen's reddened eyes and said: "Bobby will do more for your father than anyone else now. If he can be a boy again he will get entirely well."

The many parcels were at last stowed away in the cart and Josh clucked sadly to Josephus.

"I reckon Bobby's done left us all, now that his paw is come," he said sadly to the sympathetic mule. But Bobby came running after him.

"Hi there! Wait, Josh! Father says he would sooner trust his bones to us than that old Tin Lizzie. You'n him'n me can squzzle in on the front seat."

"Sho' we kin!" declared the delighted Josh. He hadn't lost an old friend after all, but gained a new one.

Mr. Carter proved even more agreeable to the little mountain boy than his idol, Lewis Somerville. He had such wonderful things to tell of ships and things and seemed to understand a boy so well. Mr. Somerville was right strict with a fellow, expecting him to be clean all the time and never forget, but somehow, Mr. Carter was a little easier.

"You are frightfully burned, Douglas," complained Mrs. Carter as they finally got themselves stowed away in the faithful mountain goat. "I can't see why you do not protect your skin. Your neck will take months to recover from such a tanning."

"Well, I don't think that will make much difference," laughed Douglas. "I fancy it will be many a day before I go décolleté."

"I don't see that. If you are not going to college, I see no reason why you should not make your debut next winter."

Douglas looked at her mother in amazement. Could it be that even now she did not understand? She said nothing, feeling that it would be wiser to wait until she and her mother were alone. Never having economized in her life, Mrs. Carter did not know the meaning of the word. The many parcels that were borne from the train gave Douglas a faint feeling. Had her mother been buying things in New York?

"I brought you a perfect love of a hat, darling," Mrs. Carter chattered on, "but of course you shall have to bleach up a bit for it to be becoming to you. I did not dream you were so burned or I should not have selected such pale trimmings. I have a delightful plan! Since you are to come out next winter, I think a fortnight at the White in late August would be charming-give you that poise that debutantes so often lack. We can leave the children with your father and go together--"

"But, mother--"

"Oh, we shan't go quite yet! I know you want to see your father for a few days before you leave him even for a fortnight."

Douglas was speechless; Nan, who was crowded in by her, gave her a sympathetic squeeze.

"It is lovely to be with my girls again," the little lady bubbled on. "Of course your letter was a great surprise to me, Douglas. The idea of my children making money!" and she gave a silvery laugh. "I am delighted that you have, because now no doubt your coming out will be even more delightful than I had anticipated. Of course those persons who are in our house in Richmond will simply have to get out."

"But, mother--"

"Simply have to-how can a girl come out suitably unless she is in her own home?"

* * *

The cabin was looking very sweet and fresh after a thorough cleaning from the willing hands of Susan, who was in a state of bliss because her beloved mistress was returning. Gwen had found some belated Cherokee roses and with a few sprays of honeysuckle added had glorified the plain room.

"You think Miss Lizzie Somerville is el'gant! Well, you jes' oughter see my missis. She is the mos' el'gantes' lady in the whole er Richmond. I bet Mis' Carter ain't never in all her life done a han's turn. Gawd knows what she gonter say 'bout these here young ladies er hern workin' like they was in service," Susan remarked to the little English Gwen, who had done many a hand's turn herself and still had an elegance all her own, so evident that the colored servants recognized her as a "lady bawn."

"I think it is very wonderful that the Carter girls should be able to work so well when they have never been brought up to it," said Gwen as she hung the last freshly laundered sash curtain.

"That's they paw in 'em," declared Susan. "He is the wuckinest gemman I ever seed. 'Tain't nothin' he won't turn his han' ter. He don't never set back and holler fer help when he wants the fire fixed er sech like. No'm, he jes' jumps up an' waits on hisself. Sometimes he used ter git Mis' Carter kinder put out 'cause he'd even do his own reaching at the table. Miss Douglas is the spittin' image of him. None of the gals favors her much 'cep Miss Nan. She looks like her but she ain't so langrous like when they's work on hand. Miss Helen is the same kind er spender as her maw. I believe my soul them two would ruther buy than eat. Cook used ter say that Mis' Carter an' Miss Helen spent like we done come to the millionennium. Great Gawd! Here they is an' I ain't got on my clean apron. That's one thing that Mis' Carter'll certainly git cross over-aprons."

She did not, however. Too pleased to see the faithful Susan, Mrs. Carter overlooked the doubtful apron.

"What a charming room! Is this where I am to be? And you girls in the tents beyond? And Bobby-where does Bobby sleep?"

"He is with Lewis Somerville and his friend, Bill Tinsley. I believe he wrote you about Bill," said Helen, "-the young man who was shipped from West Point when Lewis was."

"Oh yes, I remember! I am glad to see you have not let yourself run down like Douglas, my dear. Your hair looks well kept and your complexion is perfect."

Douglas, much perturbed over her mother's plans, had rushed off to be alone for a moment to compose herself.

"But, mother, I don't burn like Douglas, and then Douglas' hair is so lovely it doesn't make any difference what she does to it. Mine must be well kept to pass muster. I hope you are not going to find it too rough here for you, mumsy," and Helen put a protecting arm around the little mother, who was more like a sister, and a younger one at that, than a mother to these great girls.

"Oh, I think it is delightful for a while. Of course I have been on shipboard so long that I really am longing for some society. Did you hear me tell Douglas what my plan is for her and me? I should like to include you, too, but perhaps it would be best for you to wait a year."

"No, I did not hear; you see the car is such a noisy one that one never can hear. What is your plan?"

"I want to take Douglas to the White for several weeks preparatory to her making her debut this winter."

"Debut!" gasped Helen. "White Sulphur!"

"Certainly, why not?"

"But, mother, we haven't money for clothes and things."

"Nonsense! Our credit is perfectly good. I fancy there is not a man in Richmond who has paid his bills so regularly as Robert Carter, and now that he is not able to work for a few months I feel sure there is not a single tradesman with whom we have always dealt who would not be more than pleased to have us on his books for any amount."

"I wanted to charge a lot of things I thought we needed, but Douglas just wouldn't have it. She never does realize the importance of clothes. I don't mean to criticize Douglas, she is wonderful, but she is careless about clothes."

"Well, I shall put a stop to that, now that I am back with my children. Your father is so much better I can give my time to other things now. How exciting it will be to have a daughter in society! I never did want Douglas to go to college. What made her give it up? She never did say what her reason was. Letters are very unsatisfactory things when one is on shipboard."

"It was money, of course," said Helen. "There was no money for college."

"Oh, to be sure! I forgot that college takes cash. Well, I am heartily glad she has given it up. I think college girls get too independent. I am dying to show you my purchases in New York."

"I am dying to see them, too, but, mumsy, I shall have to leave you now and run and do a million things. We have a great crowd of week-enders coming up on the late train."

"Can't Susan attend to the things?"

"Oh, Susan does a lot, but I am the chief cook and Douglas is the brains of the concern and looks after all the money and does the buying. Nan attends to all the letter writing, and you would be astonished to see how much she has to do because we have showers of mail about board. Lucy sees to the setting of the tables, and all of us do everything that turns up to be done. Even Bobby helps."

"How ridiculous! Well, take care of your hands, darling. I hate to see a girl with roughened hands. There is simply no excuse for it."

Helen was dazed by her mother's attitude.

"She is just presenting a duck-back to trouble," thought the girl, looking rather ruefully at her shapely hands which were showing the inevitable signs of work.

She found Douglas sitting in a forlorn heap in their tent. Her countenance was the picture of woe.

"Helen! Helen! What are we to do?"

"Well, it wouldn't be so bad to take a trip to the White, and you certainly deserve a change. Poor mumsy, too, is bored to death with such a long sea trip and she needs some society."

"But, honey, the money!"

"Oh, I don't see that we need worry so about that. Mother says that there is not a tradesman in Richmond who would not be pleased to have us on his books for any amount. I, for one, am longing for some new clothes. I don't mind a bit working and cooking, but I do think I need some new things-and as for you-why, Douglas, you are a perfect rag bag."

Douglas looked at her sister in amazement. The lesson, then, was not learned yet! She had thought that Helen understood about the necessity of making no bills as the bills were what had helped to reduce their father to this state of invalidism, but here she was falling into the mother's way of thinking-willing to plunge into debt to any amount.

"But Dr. Wright--"

"Oh, always Dr. Wright!"

"But, Helen, you know you like Dr. Wright now and you must trust him."

"So I do. I like him better and trust him entirely and he himself told me at the station that father was getting well fast. He said it would take a little more time but that he would be perfectly well again-at least that is what I gathered. I know father would be the last man in the world to want his girls to go around looking like ash cats and you know it would make him ill indeed to think that mother wanted to go to White Sulphur for a while and could not go because of lack of money."

"Of course it would, but surely neither you nor mother would tell him that she wanted to go if you know there is no money to pay for such a trip."

"But there is money!" exclaimed Helen with some asperity. "You told me yourself that the camp was paying well enough for us to begin to have quite a bank account."

"Yes-but--"

"Well now, if we have some money you must think that I have helped to earn it!"

"Why, Helen dear, you have done more than any of us. You are so capable--"

"I don't say I have done more, no one could have worked harder than you have-in fact, everybody has worked, but if I have done my share of the work, then I am certainly entitled to my share of the money and I intend to take my share and send mother to White Sulphur for a change. Of course you will simply have to go with her as she has set her heart on it."

"I will not," announced Douglas, her girlish face taking on stern determination.

A shout from Bobby heralded the arrival of Josephus with the luggage. The discussion ended for the time being as Douglas and Helen were both needed to prepare for the inroad of week-enders that were to arrive in a few minutes. Mr. Carter alighted from the cart, already looking better. He was most enthusiastic over the camp and all of its arrangements.

"I am going to be your handy man," he said, putting his arm around Douglas. "Are you well, honey? You look bothered."

"Oh yes, I am as well as can be," said Douglas, trying to smooth her wrinkled brow. How she did want to talk all the troubles over with her father, but he of all persons must not be bothered. The old habit of going to him with every worry was so strong that it was difficult to keep from doing it now, but she bit her lips and held it in.

"I'll tell Lewis," she thought. "He will at least sympathize."

What was she to do about her mother and Helen? They seemed to have no more gumption about money than the birds. Even then parcels were being carried into the cabin from the cart that must have meant much money spent in New York. Where did mother get it? The rent from the house in town had been sent to Mrs. Carter for running expenses on shipboard and hotels at the many places where they had stopped, but that must have gone for the trip. Could she have charged the purchases in New York? Poor Douglas! She had felt that the problem of making her sisters see the necessity of economizing had been a great one, but she realized that it was nothing to what she must face now. She felt that all her former arguments had been in vain since Helen was dropping into her mother's habit of thought and upholding that charming butterfly-like person in all her schemes of extravagance. Lucy was sure to follow Helen's lead and begin to demand clothes, treats, trips and what-not. Nan, dear sensible, unselfish Nan, would be the only one who would sympathize with her older sister in regard to the necessity of continuing the strict economy they had practiced since early in May, when Dr. Wright had declared that the only thing that would save their father's reason was an immediate change, a long rest and complete cessation of all business worries.

Nan's tastes were simple, but she had a passion for color and beautiful textiles and sometimes indulged that taste in adorning her dainty little person. As a rule, however, she was quite satisfied to behold the color in a Persian rug or the wings of a butterfly. Beauty was to the girl the most important thing in life whether it was of line, color, sound or idea. She was perfectly happy with a good book and a comfortable place in which to curl up. Her fault was laziness, a certain physical inertia which her indulgent mother always attributed to her delicate constitution; but the summer in the mountains with the enforced activity had proven that the delicate constitution was due to the inertia and not the inertia to the delicate constitution. Up to that time in her life there had been no especial reason for exerting herself, but Nan was very unselfish and when she realized that her sisters were one and all busying themselves, she threw off her lazy habits as she would an ugly robe, and many tasks at Week-End Camp fell to her share.

Douglas, in this trouble that had arisen, felt that she could go to Nan for comfort and advice. Nan's mind was as normally active as her graceful little body was inactive and she had a faculty of seeing her way through difficulties that the conscientious but more slowly thinking Douglas much envied her.

"Nan, it's fifteen minutes before train time when the week-enders will come piling in-I'm dying to have a talk with you."

"Well, don't die-just talk," drawled Nan, looking up from her book but never stopping turning the crank of the mayonnaise mixer. This was a job Nan loved, making mayonnaise. She had gotten it down to a fine art since she could mix and read at the same time. She declared it was a plain waste of time to use your hands without using your head and since turning a mayonnaise mixer crank required no intelligence beyond that of seeing that the funnel was filled with olive oil, she was able to indulge in her passion for poetry while she was making the quarts of mayonnaise that the young housekeepers dealt out so generously to their week-enders.

"Listen to this!" and Nan turned the crank slowly while she read:

"'Alas for all high hopes and all desires!

Like leaves in yellow autumn-time they fall-

Alas for prayers and psalms and love's pure fires-

One silence and one darkness ends them all!'"

The crank stopped and all of the oil flowed through the funnel while Nan softly turned the leaves of Marston's "Last Harvest."

"Yes, honey, it is beautiful, but you had better read a livelier form of verse or your salad dressing will go back on you."

"Heavens, you are right! I've got 'Barrack Room Ballads' here ready in case I get to dawdling," laughed Nan.

"I want to talk about something very important, Nan. Can you turn your crank and listen?"

"Yes, indeed, but you'll have to talk fast or else I'll get to poking again. You see, I have to keep time."

So Douglas rapidly repeated the conversations she had had with her mother and later with Helen.

"What are we to do? Must I tell Dr. Wright? I am afraid to get them started for fear father will be mixed up in it. He must not know mother wants to go to White Sulphur-he would be sure to say let her go and then he would try to work again before he is fit for it, and he would certainly get back into the same state he was in last spring."

"Poor little mumsy! I was sure she would not understand," and once more the mixer played a sad measure.

"I was afraid she wouldn't," sighed Douglas, "but I did think Helen had been taught a lesson and realized the importance of our keeping within our earnings and saving something, too, for winter."

"Helen-why, she is too young for the lesson she learned to stick. She is nothing but a child."

"Is that so, grandmother?" laughed Douglas, amused in spite of her trouble at Nan's ancient wisdom (Nan being some two years younger than Helen).

"Why, Douglas, Helen has just been play-acting at being poor. She has no idea of its being a permanency," and Nan filled the funnel again with oil and began to turn her crank with vigor.

"But what are we to do? I am not going to White Sulphur and I am not going to make my debut-that's sure. I have never disobeyed mother that I can remember, but this time I shall have to. I don't know what I am to say about the trip to the White. Helen is saying she has helped to earn the money and she means to spend her share giving poor mumsy a little fun after her tiresome long journey on the water. I wish we had never told her we were able to put something in the bank last month. It was precious little and Helen's share would not keep them at White Sulphur more than two or three days. Helen thinks I am stingy and mother thinks I am stubborn and ugly and sunburned-and there's the train with all the week-enders--" and poor Douglas gave a little sob.

"And I have turned my wheel until this old mayonnaise is done-just look how beautiful it is! And you, poor old Doug, must just leave it to me, and I'll think up something to keep them here if I have to break out with smallpox and get them quarantined on the mountain."

"Oh, Nan! Is there some way out of it without letting father know that mother wants something and cannot have it for lack of money?"

"Sure there is! You go powder your nose and put on a blue linen blouse and give a few licks to your pretty hair while I hand over the mayonnaise to Gwen and see that Lucy has counted noses for the supper tables. I've almost got a good reason already for mumsy's staying here aside from the lack of tin, but I must get it off to her with great finesse."

"I knew you would help!" and Douglas gave her little sister and the mayonnaise bowl an impartial hug, and then hastened to make herself more presentable, hoping to find favor in the eyes of her fastidious mother.

* * *