The Woodcraft Girls at Camp

While the girls "ahed" and "ummed," Miss Miller laughed heartily. "You subtract a mark with a suggestion and add one with a slang word!" said she.

"Why, how!" frowned Zan.

"Didn't you realise it? Then it shows how unconsciously this habit has taken root. You said just now, 'oodles of ice.'"

"But that isn't slang! That's English!" remonstrated Zan.

"You'll not find it in any authorised dictionary."

"Well, I've heard the boys use that term so many times that I was sure it was English," sighed Zan.

"But, remember, most of the slang you have acquired has been the result of hearing it from your brothers. So, I would not quote them as critics of English," laughingly said the Guide.

"Well, is the suggestion approved by all?" returned Zan.

"Yes, indeed, that goes without saying!" returned the girls unanimously.

"Then we get ice-cream hereafter, but I miss my merit!" laughed Zan, turning about and chirping to Cheokee to wake up.

The swimming that afternoon was fine, as the sun had neared Pine Tree Knob before the girls were ready. Wickee had been impatiently awaiting their appearance and the moment one of them came from the tent, the collie jumped about and yelped with glee. He accompanied the Band to the pool and watched them go in, but he sat on the grass and would not be persuaded to bathe.

"He's got to come in – we need him to give us lessons," cried Elena, starting for the dog. But Wickee must have understood, for he sprang in before any one could approach him.

He swam about enjoying the bath thoroughly and when he had circled the pool several times, he came near Zan and wanted to play. He snapped at her hair as it floated on the water, and tagging hard, ducked her under, so that she had to catch hold of his leg to make him let go.

Then, seeing Hilda and Elena trying to swim a few yards, Wickee caught hold of a floating stick of wood and carried it to Elena. The stick caught in her hair and she, too, went under.

Wickee then tried to catch Hilda's sleeve, but she was too quick for him, and was on her feet before he could get hold of her.

After an hour of fun, Miss Miller warned the girls of the time, and went toward her tent. After a few more plunges, the girls came out; Wickee shook himself and flopped down on the warm rock to dry.

At supper, Miss Miller said, "To-morrow is Sunday. We will observe the day in the way we have been taught. If any one feels it is not right to take a little plunge in the pool, or go for a walk, or anything we do daily, let that one follow her own conscience. I, for one, will take my usual bath, and read in the morning. After dinner, I will join any one who wishes to go for a short walk. After supper I expect to sit and enjoy the sunset and the twilight."

"We will do the same, Miss Miller," said the girls, so the question of the Sabbath was quietly decided once for all.

The girls all spent the Sabbath morning writing letters home, and to friends. Zan's letter was composed mostly of exclamations of delight over camping and requests for her mother to send various articles to the camp before she left for the beach. The ice-cream freezer was mentioned not less than four times throughout the letter, so you can see that Zan never refused a treat of ice-cream if she had an opportunity to accept any.

Monday morning the postman left several letters in the mail-box in front of Sherwoods' house. Zan saw him going down the Bridge road and called to Miss Miller, "I'll run down and see if he left any mail for us!" And was off before any one could wink.

Coming back to camp, she displayed a number of letters, among them, one for Miss Miller from her father, and another for Nita, post-marked at the adjoining post-office.

"Who do you know down around here?" queried Zan, looking at the writing.

"None of your business – give it to me!" snapped Nita, angrily, grabbing the letter from Zan's hand.

"Pooh! I should worry!" sneered Zan, also angry. "The writing looks just like Bob's did when he was ten years old! I'd find some one who could write a decent hand!"

Zan was not aware of the fact that she had touched upon a tender subject between Nita and Miss Miller, and Nita did not dare answer while the Guide stood there; but Miss Miller said to Zan, "It really is too bad that you are piling up bad marks on your page! That slang just used ought to have ten marks given you." The tone in which sentence was pronounced was worse for Zan to bear than all the marks ever thought of.

Miss Miller walked away to her tent, there to read her letter in peace, but Zan felt heartily ashamed of her anger and was willing to ask pardon. Nita, however, had gone up the path through the ravine. Be it known that she had her letter in her middy blouse, however.

In the privacy of her tent, Miss Miller opened the letter which was a reply to the one she had sent the doctor. It was as follows:

"My dear Miss Miller:

I read with deep concern the information you sent I called upon Mrs. Brampton immediately and had a long talk with her about Nita's disease – for it is a disease finding its birth in the mental realm. Mrs. Brampton cried of course, and then told me of a great deal of the worry she has had during the last two years. I have been called in now and then to prescribe for Mrs. Brampton or Nita, while Mr. Brampton has his own doctor downtown whenever he thinks he needs medical advice. Nita has not been ill in the past two years, and Mrs. Brampton has only called upon me for minor ailments, so I have not had occasion to have any serious talks with Nita's mother about the girl's well-being. I heard, with regret, that she had developed a dangerous habit of secrecy from her mother and friends. She dislikes to take part in anything that calls for physical exercise, deep thinking, or help for others. She is continually making excuses for shortcomings and has recently been misrepresenting truth to her mother as the easiest way to account for her time and actions. I think that I would have separated my girl from such companionship had I known the evil to be guarded against. As it is, I wonder if it is best for all at camp to continue having an influence such as Nita creates, about you. It will be your duty to decide; all I can do now is to assist in any way you may need my services.

"One extenuating reason for the girl's behaviour, I think we ought to take into consideration. Her mother told me of Nita's early years. The child was ushered into this world under unfavourable conditions. Mrs. Brampton is a very delicate woman and the baby had no strength with which to start the battle of life. All prepared foods disagreed with the stomach and the frail little child was merely a skeleton until after a year's time. It then became noticeable that the child was gaining slowly in health, strength and general behaviour. From the second year on, Nita grew much the same as other children, but always seemed two years behind the average normal child.

"At ten years, when I first was called to diagnose an illness of the girl's, I was surprised to find how matured she was in her ways and speech – all of which showed me that her thoughts were too mature for her age. Instead of a teasing, fun-loving child I found a quiet, indolent-loving young lady who constantly ate candy and read books five years in advance of her age. I told her mother than, that Nita needed tom-boy companions to interest her in physical development, and more bread and butter, with possibly a bit of jam spread on it now and then, instead of sweets, highly-seasoned salads and desserts, and the wine that Mr. Brampton always has with dinner. He has always been amused to see his little daughter sip from his glass and Mrs. Brampton told me that she could see no harm in having a child accustomed to wine, just the same as my children are accustomed to water at our table. In fact, she said that she pitied children who were never permitted to taste drinks and then went all to pieces when they grew up and went out into the world to be tempted with alcohol and tobacco.

"I found that she was not capable of discerning facts from fancy, so I did not waste more time trying to explain then; but I told my daughter to try and wean the girl from undesirable habits, and I often invited Nita to visit at our home. Perhaps, this was a mistake. It remains to be seen whether Zan has enough character and self-control to come out of contamination without a scar."

At this point of the long letter, Miss Miller looked out of the tent-opening and smiled, murmuring, "I think any child that sensible man trains can associate with and not become contaminated by evils."

Miss Miller continued reading the enlightening lines after a few moments' thought.

"Two years after my first introduction to Nita's family I was called again to examine the girl. That was when she was twelve. I found that Mrs. Brampton failed to follow my directions regarding food and sleep. She said it was such a nuisance to argue with Mr. Brampton and Nita over the wine and viands that would give a high-liver chronic indigestion, to say nothing of a delicate child! She also said that she remonstrated with Nita about sitting up late reading stories and always nibbling candy. But Nita had a will of her own! And the past year the dear child had been invited to such nice parties that she (the mother) was glad to have her meet more friends of her own or a much higher class, consequently health was sacrificed to social ambition. She explained at the time, what a graceful dancer Nita was and how people loved to have her attend evening dances and exhibit her gift for their pleasure. There was no use trying to disguise the truth which was self-evident: Mrs. Brampton was a foolish proud mother to whom flattery of anything her child did was incense at her own altar. Instead of the girl being tucked into flannelette nighties with feet so she could kick all night in bed without cold from exposure, she was flossed up in organdy and tulle ruffles with white silk stockings and shoes and shown off at dances – all for vain-glory.

"The vicious training – I mean bad, senseless, evil influence, by that word vicious – of her life had actually developed a backward delicate organism into matured girl-hood three years in advance of what is normal.

"I watched with deep interest this product of senseless motherhood for I was eager to help others by comparison with the results of my own endeavours. I often visited, without being called upon, to direct and help the girl to a better status of health and aspiration. I do not think I succeeded very well. I had the parents' foolishness to battle again. Perhaps I laid the seed of a higher life which will grow and bud during your care this summer, while her parents are out of reach. It is to be hoped for. This makes it a matter of deepest thought before she is sent back home without further trial. But at the same time others are to be considered.

"I believe the habit of taking a tiny drink of wine at dinner has resulted, during the last two years, in chronic intermittent heart-beat and accelerated circulation. This will, or has, induced inflammability of the brain which, in turn, has acted upon organs supposed to be dormant for years to come. The trashy novels Nita has been permitted to read have also caused high-tension thoughts foreign to all nature. Even an adult of experience and self-control is not benefited physically or mentally by reading or watching a play, based on immoral emotions, or the suggestions of them.

"Now the question confronts us – you and me – has the atmosphere hitherto surrounding the girl been so subtle in its evil influence that it is past coping with? Or can we, by taking deep thought of ways and means, convert this individual who is on a steep descent toward licentious living and later, chronic invalidism, to be eventually claimed by some frightful disease as payment in full for ungodly habits, into a physical success – one who desires clean living, simple loving, and pure thinking!"

With the last inspiring paragraph the letter ended, only a short phrase of "Yours earnestly," and the signature.

Miss Miller sat for a long time pondering the letter, and read several parts of it again. Then she rose with a sigh of responsibility and locked the communication in her bag.

"Where did Nita go?" asked the Guide, joining the girls.

"Up the ravine," replied Jane.

"Well, the day is clear and I think we can plan to camp out to-night. It will be our first lesson in star-gazing, too!" laughed Miss Miller, hiding her concern over Nita's absence.

"What are we going to do this morning – and this afternoon, too?" asked Zan.

"I believe we will need some vegetables from the garden, and I thought we might learn how to bake cake for dessert."

"Goody! That will be fun! Shall we divide up?" said Hilda.

"No, a short walk to the garden will be good for all; then we can all take a hand in baking the cake."

"I wonder why Nita doesn't want to take part in our fun," ventured Jane, who was being disillusioned very rapidly regarding her admiration for the graceful pretty miss.

"She has never had an opportunity to act as freely and in the open as you have, perhaps. Her home life has cooped her with its conventionalities until she feels lost in this rural life. We must be patient with her and try, by example, to show how undesirable are the frothy perishable things of social butterflies," said Miss Miller.

Nita returned before the Band was quite ready to leave camp for the garden. Her efforts to be agreeable made the girls believe that she was sorry for her ill-humor and would be pleasant thereafter. The Guide saw beneath the veneer of smiles and wondered if the letter dated from the adjoining post-office had anything to do with Nita's present good-nature.

The vegetables selected, Miss Miller said, "Our cake will have to be baked in the oven at the house. I think there will be all the ingredients necessary in the pantry. Zan can show us where the tins are kept, for I thought a jelly cake would be the best to make to-day."

"Oh, yes. I love layer cake!" cried Elena.

The rest signified their anticipation of the cake in various ways, and by the time the house was reached every one was sure the cake would be delicious.

"Oh, pooh! I'm so hot after that garden work! Let's sit under the tree and cool off," suggested Hilda.

"You didn't complain of heat while we were working in the garden," said Miss Miller.

"Just because I didn't feel it then! We were having such fun with the vegetables that I never thought of it!"

"No, isn't it queer? I never feel hot when I am playing tennis or rowing on the lake – but afterwards – my!"

"Then you lead me to believe that when your thought is filled with pleasurable pursuits, such as gardening, tennis, or rowing, the heat is never noticed – it is afterwards, when you are mentally seeking for something to divert your thoughts against, that the suggestion reaches your body, 'My, but I am warm!'"

The girls expressed their interest in individual ways, Hilda finally saying, "Miss Miller, you certainly do a heap of thinking! I never saw anybody who could take us up so quick on anything that could be turned into a lesson!"

"I do not wish you to feel that I am always seeking for a suitable reason to teach a lesson, but some of these opportunities you offer me are too good to lose track of," said the Guide, anxiously looking at each girl.

"Oh, don't worry! We don't mind a bit! In fact, I thoroughly enjoy your ideas – they correspond so exactly with Dad's," replied Zan, getting up from the grass where she had thrown herself.

"Where're you going, Zan?" asked Nita.

"Kitchen! I'm going to get interested and forget how warm the sun tried to fool me into believing!"

The others laughed but got up from the grass and followed Zan.

"Here's the tins, and there's the baking-powder! Maybe it isn't good – it's been here all winter!" said Zan.

Miss Miller examined the can. "It's the best powder made, and if the pantry is dry all winter and spring, there will be no loss of properties in the powder. It pays to use the best products we can get; by that I do not mean the most expensive, for often one pays more for advertised products that are really inferior than for one which is pure but not so costly in marketing the brand."

"Well, you brought eggs, milk, and butter – what else do we need for the cake?" said Nita.

"Flour – I know there is some here, for I left it the first morning we ate here," replied Miss Miller, going to the cupboard.

"And the jelly – Zan can get that," continued the Guide.

Nita was ordered to measure out a cupful of sugar, Elena to grease the jelly tins very thoroughly and spread a small piece of oiled paper on the bottom of each pan. Hilda was started beating two eggs, and Jane rubbing a lump of butter well into the sugar. Nita, having finished her measuring, was called upon to assist the Guide in building a fire in the stove.

Miss Miller reached the conclusion that by having Nita help her more she would keep her in closer personal association with her and this perhaps might benefit the girl.

"First you crumple some paper up loosely and place it in the fire-pit," said Miss Miller, showing Nita how to go about it. "Next, lay some fine kindlings this way and that – if you threw them upon the paper any way they may burn and again they may not; if you build them up so there is a liberal air-space for the smoke and fire to rise toward the chimney, the wood will always take fire readily. Now, the kindlings just right, you can lay a few heavy pieces of split wood on top. That's right, so now we'll light the paper from underneath! Never from the open lid on top."

The other girls left their tasks and watched the lesson in fire-building. Nita said, "Why not – I should think the easiest way would be to drop a match down to the paper while you have the stove-lid off!"

Miss Miller felt well repaid for her trouble by seeing Nita sincerely interested.

"First, the smoke rises and may cause one unpleasant choking or watering eyes. Then, too, the open lid prevents the draft that circulates from chimney down the back of the stove and underneath where ashes accumulate and up against the fire-pit to force a fire higher. If you lean over I will show you the back-damper."

Miss Miller took off the last back lid on the top of the stove and showed the girls a closed damper. By pushing in a small key just over the oven which the girls had never noticed on a stove before, she demonstrated how the little door dropped back and left the current of air and smoke to escape from the fire and rise through the chimney. She also pointed out the wide mouth at the back of the stove that permitted the air from the chimney to go down and find its way into the ash-pit directly under the fire.

"If your ash-pit is filled with ashes the fire never will force any heat into the oven, of top-lids. It may burn slowly, but not until the ashes are removed can you look for any right result in your stove! Lazy house-keepers dislike to take out ashes and keep on heaping coal on top of their fire; that only burns out the enduring qualities in your stove top. A fire that barely reached to the top of the fire-pit is always best, and to keep it at that height you must keep the ashes that are always forming under the fire well raked down until you see a red reflection at the under side of the grate. If you do not quite understand, I can show you later, when the cake is in the oven."

Nita then knelt down before the fire-pit and carefully placed a burning match under the paper. It flared up and in a few seconds, they all heard wood crackling. But smoke backed out of the lids and seemed to be ready to burst the stove-pipe.

"Oh, Miss Miller, what's wrong?" cried Zan, anxiously.

Miss Miller smiled and said, "After my lesson, can't one of you discover the trouble?"

The girls coughed and rubbed their eyes but no one had an idea what to do. Smoke kept pouring forth while they looked about for some clue to the knowledge which the Guide seemed to keep to herself. Finally, they had to give up, and she immediately took hold of a key, similar to the oven damper, that was seen in the stove-pipe, and turned it up vertically. Immediately the smoke was released into the chimney, it stopped coming from the stove.

"Well! what a simple thing to do!" exclaimed Zan.

"Now, if you run out and look up you will see smoke pouring from the kitchen chimney," said the Guide.

"We'll take your word for it – we're anxious to bake the cake," laughed Elena.

More wood was placed on the fire and a few minutes after Miss Miller poured a small quantity of coal on the wood.

"Now it will burn without our watching, and we can go back to the cake. Hilda, measure two teaspoonfuls of baking powder into two cups of sifted flour. Zan, take the spermaceti from the jelly. Wash it off carefully and leave it in the closet to use for waxing our irons when we do our laundry."

"I've often wondered what this thing was on top of the jelly and preserves," said Zan, examining the hardened cake.

"What is that put on for?" asked Elena, while the others watched Zan remove it.

"It keeps the jelly or other preserves from the air. In case of canned or preserved things, air causes fermentation. With jelly, tiny flies settle and eat the top, finally making it sour and unfit to use. This wax is poured on top of the jar while it is in a melted condition; it soon hardens and forms a close sealed top. It does not injure the quality of jelly or wax, so it is waste to throw away the wax when it is serviceable in other ways."

Zan had removed the spermaceti while the Guide spoke, and stood awaiting further orders. "Muzzer always put some flavour in our cakes – we all like vanilla," said she.

"It would be better to eat if we had any, but I forgot to have any extracts sent here," said Miss Miller.

"I'll look in the cupboard, maybe there will be some left over from last year," Zan hastened to say, and ran over to investigate. "Yes, here's half a bottle!"

The flavouring extract was added after eggs and a cup of milk had been stirred together, and, lastly, the flour with powder was mixed in. The batter resulting was just a bit thicker than a self-spreading concoction would be. Miss Miller poured it out into the three pans and the girls spread it over the bottom.

"I can judge the right heat in an oven by thrusting in my hand, but many housekeepers use a thermometer to ascertain the right temperature for baking," said Miss Miller, trying the oven as she spoke.

In a moment she added, "Bring the tins – the oven's ready!"

She opened the oven-door carefully a few times during the ten minutes the cakes were baking, while the girls hung over her shoulders and sniffed delightedly. Then the tins were taken out and the cakes removed to cool before spreading the jelly over each layer. When one layer was placed on top of the other, the cake presented a most tempting look.

"We won't bother to ice this one, as we ought to make a corn-starch pudding for dinner while the stove is hot. And remember, girls, these things all go to help win a coup!" reminded Miss Miller.

While the girls stirred the ingredients for the simple pudding, the Guide asked, "Do you know where starch comes from?"

They looked thoughtful for a time, then Zan said, "I think I have heard, but I never took much notice of it."

"Well, starch is found in potatoes. Of course there are many starchy products but potatoes form the principal supply. We find starch in cereals – in rice, corn and sago. As you can see, the starch we used just now is made of corn. If one uses cold water to dissolve starch, it forms a paste, while hot water forms it into globules that are used to stiffen linen and articles."

The pudding was finished and the Guide thought it a pity to waste such fine heat. So it was decided to cook the vegetables for dinner and save time at camp.

"Prepare to give me a merit!" cried Zan. "I propose that we eat dinner on the lawn for a change!"

All assented, so Zan exclaimed, "Gee, that was easy!"

"Oh, Zan, Zan! You are absolutely hopeless!" sighed the Guide, while all the girls laughed.

"Now what's the matter?" wondered Zan.

"Don't you know? You win a merit one moment and deserve a demerit the next! You are so accustomed to slang that you never realise when you use it!" said Miss Miller.