Winona of the Camp Fire Part 42

"Talk about banner days!" sighed Louise. "I was the only one of us that didn't get into trouble--"

"Louise!" called somebody, from outside the tent where Louise was was.h.i.+ng and getting ready for supper. "Did you know that you left the store-shed door open this morning when you came in for supplies, and somebody's carried off every bit of bacon!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

And in the opulent days which followed the winning of the carnival prizes, and the selling of lovely amounts of Camp Fire goods, Camp Karonya decided that it ought to own a phonograph. The treasury, which was a suitcase under Helen's bed, had money in it, and the girls badly needed something to dance by. To be sure, the camp boasted a mandolin, two guitars, a mouth-organ and a banjo, to say nothing of Mrs. Bryan's Iroquois drum. But all these had to be worked by hand, and the orchestra, after performing for several long evenings while their friends practised folk-dances with abandon, struck.

"We want to get a chance at the folk-dances, too," they remonstrated, very reasonably. Indeed, Louise got up and made a moving speech, alluding to her pressing need of folk-dances, and her slender chance of being able to do them while she played her instrument.

"Here I am," she said pathetically, "twice as plump as anybody else in camp. I need folk-dances more than anybody here does. And I've spent this whole blessed evening plunking a banjo while other people got thin, people that were thin already! It may be good for my moral character, but, girls"-Louise's voice dropped tragically-"it's _ruining_ yours!"

They all agreed that something should be done.

Mrs. Bryan was entirely willing to go on pounding her Indian drum indefinitely, but the girls did not think it would be good for their moral characters to let her, either. So they held a business meeting on the spot, which happened to be the large level place they used for dancing ground; and decided to buy a phonograph.

"I think we have catalogues of them at home," said Dorothy Gray. "Shall I write and have them sent on?"

The girls considered that for awhile, but they finally decided not to.

Everyone wanted a voice in choosing the phonograph, or at least in deciding on what kind of a phonograph they were to have.

"But we don't want to pay the full price for it," said Helen wisely.

"What we ought to do is to advertise in the _Press_ in the village. It's the country paper. Look at the market Win created for kittens--"

But here Winona sprang for her, and they rolled over on the leaves, and the meeting ended in a frolic.

However, they all liked Helen's idea, and two Blue Birds were sent off to the _Press_ with an advertis.e.m.e.nt for a second-hand phonograph or victrola in good condition. Next day two other Blue Birds went after the answers. There were three.

One offered a fine music-box in good condition, which had never been used since the owner's wife died twenty years ago. He lived on the Northtown Pike (which n.o.body present had ever heard of), about seventeen miles from the village. The music-box played six tunes and was an heirloom, having belonged to his mother, but the farmer on the Northtown Pike would part with it for twenty-five dollars for he wanted another Holstein cow and this would pay for part of her.

"Horrid old thing!" said Winona when Marie was done reading the answers aloud. "If it's an heirloom he hasn't any business parting with it to buy a section of any kind of cow-or even a whole one."

"Well, Marie, go on to the next," said Mrs. Bryan. But the next was even more hopeless. What this man had was, from his description, a very cheap phonograph which was almost as old as the farmer's music-box; but he, too, thought he would like to have twenty-five dollars for it.

"He doubtless wants to buy a section of cow, too," suggested Mrs. Bryan.

"Maybe they're buying her together," said Louise brilliantly; and Marie read the last letter. This was the only one at all promising. The writer, who was a woman with a good handwriting and correct spelling, said that she had a two-year-old victrola in good condition, and that she would gladly sell it for twenty-five dollars, because she was going to be given a new one.

"That sounds better," said Mrs. Bryan. "I would advise a committee of you to go and look it over."

"But how badly they all want twenty-five dollars!" groaned Marie. "Do you notice it? They all ask for exactly the same amount."

"Probably buying the cow on shares," repeated Louise.

"I vote we make Louise one of the committee to see the two-year-old victrola," said Winona. "She has business instinct, and the rest of us haven't such a lot."

"What's more to the point, I also have a victrola at home, or Dad has,"

said Louise, "and I know what it ought to be like to be good."

So it was moved and seconded that Louise, Winona and Helen be appointed a committee of three to investigate the victrola.

As early as they could in the afternoon after they had received their replies they started out. It was a gorgeous day, not too warm for comfort, and they chased each other about the road as if they were kittens, instead of responsible Camp Fire Girls out on a very business-like errand. After they had gone about a mile, which led them nearly to the village, it occurred to some brilliant person that it might be a good plan to ask somebody how to get to the address of the woman with the two-year-old victrola. It was The Willows, Lowlane, near Gray's Road, and so far as the girls knew that might have been nearly anywhere. So they did ask at the post-office, where they had quite made friends with the old postmaster.

"It's three miles down the pike," said he. "Strike off on the left to Gray's Road-you'll see a signpost, I guess-and then turn down the first little lane you come to. They call it Lowlane now, the folks that own the house, but it was never anything but Low's Lane till they came there."

"The first little lane we come to?" repeated Winona.

The postmaster looked thoughtful. "Now, I don't want to be too sure," he said. "The first, or maybe the second. Elmer, do you recollect whether Low's Lane is the first or second turning on the Gray's Road way?"

"Second," said Elmer the clerk readily.

"There now!" said the postmaster. "I might a' told you wrong. I certainly had it fixed in my mind that it was the first."

"Thank you," said the girls. "It won't be hard to find."

It seemed, indeed, plain enough sailing, and the girls went on. The road was bordered with trees, and there were flowers they wanted to pick, and occasionally rabbits for Puppums to chase. He was not a swift enough runner to ever catch any of the rabbits he ran after, and the rabbits did not seem to mind, so Winona let him go on chasing.

"We've gone quite three miles, I know," said Louise dismally when they had been walking some time. "And there's no Lowlane-not even any Gray's Road." Louise had trained a good deal since she had been in camp, but she still felt long walks more than the other two did, who were slim. "I 'don't believe there's no sich animal' as Mrs. Martin, or a victrola.

There aren't any victrolas or any lanes, high or low, on earth.

Woof-I'm tired!"

She fanned herself with her handkerchief, and the dog tried to jump at it, under the impression that she was playing a game with him.

"It does seem a long way," said Helen sympathetically, "but there is a Gray's Road, for I'm sure I see a signpost a little ahead of us."

"It's probably one of those automobile directions that says 'Three miles back to the village-seventeen miles forward to Jonesville. Use Smith's Lubricating Oil and Robinson Tires!'" and Louise shrugged her shoulders.

Nevertheless, when they came up to the signpost, although it did advise automobiles about several kinds of supplies they ought to have, it also said that this was Gray's Road. They turned as they had been told, and went down it, in search of their second landmark, Low's Lane. This, unfortunately, wasn't in sight. "Let's ask," said Winona as they pa.s.sed a little old house by the side of the road, and steered the others up the path that led to the porch. It was a ramshackle, unpainted packing-box of a place, with an old, old lady, heavily shawled, curled up in a rocker, for inhabitant. Helen was pushed forward to speak to her. "Can you tell us if we are near Low's Lane?" she asked, politely.

"Hey?" said the old lady. "I'm a little deaf."

Helen said it over again as loudly as she could.

"Rain?" said the old lady. "No, no-it ain't goin' to rain!"

"Low's Lane!" screamed Helen.

"What?" said the old lady.

"Ask her about the victrola," suggested Winona. "Sometimes deaf people can hear one word when they can't another. Perhaps she'd know by that where we wanted to go."

"We want a place where they're selling a victrola!" shouted Helen.

This time the old lady seemed to hear.

"Victrola, hey? You go right on a piece till you turn to your left. It's the first house."