Winona of the Camp Fire Part 7

The girls worked on, and discussed on. Winnie was sure Tom meant nothing, and the others were just as sure that he had some reason for saying what he had.

That night the girls were to hold their first Council Fire. That was why they were hurrying so to finish their dresses.

When it came Winnie's turn to answer the roll-call, she rose, slim and graceful in her khaki dress, before her turn was reached.

"Opeechee, Guardian of the Fire, may I speak before my turn comes to answer to my name?" she asked.

"Speak," said Mrs. Bryan.

"Opeechee, I do not want to change my name. May I not be known in the Camp Fire as Winona? The name is one that an Indian gave one of my own people many circles of moons ago, and it is mine by inheritance."

"Will you tell the Camp Fire about it?" asked Mrs. Bryan.

So Winnie told the Camp Fire the story her mother had told her, of the weary Indian woman her grandmother had helped, and whose papoose had been called "Winona," "Flas.h.i.+ng Ray of Light."

"Could anything be better than to be a ray of light in dark places?"

asked Winona. "I like the meaning of my name, and if the Camp Fire will let me keep it I promise to be a brightness wherever I can, always, that will light the dark places for people who need it."

"What do you say, Daughters of the Camp Fire?" asked Mrs. Bryan when Winona was done.

"If we all have different Camp Fire names, won't it seem strange for Winona to have the same name straight through?" objected Marie. "It is a beautiful name with a beautiful meaning, if it weren't that it is her every-day name."

"n.o.body ever calls me anything but Winnie," said Winona.

"Why not use the translation?" suggested Helen. "'Ray of Light' is pretty. And then Winnie could keep the meaning."

"You have spoken well!" said Mrs. Bryan. "What do you say to that, Daughters of the Camp Fire?"

"Good!" from all the girls.

"Kolah, Ray of Light!" spoke Mrs. Bryan.

Then she went on with the business of the evening.

"Two of our Camp Fire Girls are to become Wood-gatherers to-night. Will they rise?"

Winona and Marie had qualified, and they stood up.

"Ray of Light," Mrs. Bryan went on, "will you tell us how you chose your name?"

"'Flas.h.i.+ng Ray of Light' is the name my fathers gave me," clearly spoke Winona, "and I have told the Camp Fire the reason of its choosing. But I keep it because I intend to carry out its meaning. I have tried to earn my right to it by being bright, and helping all I could, no matter how dark the days were, nor how much nicer it would have been to be cross.

As my symbol I have chosen the firefly, because it lights dark places."

"Flas.h.i.+ng Ray of Light brings brightness to our Camp Fire," said the Guardian. "We welcome you to your place in our Camp Fire Circle."

She gave Winona her pretty silver ring with its raying f.a.gots, and repeating the formula which went with it.

When the girls had welcomed her rank and sung her a cheer, Winona sat down, she hoped, for the last time.

"How does it feel?" whispered Louise, who sat next her. "I wish I'd collected my requirements as quickly."

"It feels partly awfully proud and partly awfully relieved," Winona whispered back. "And I feel as if I oughtn't to have picked out such awfully easy honors to take. Anybody could make a s.h.i.+rtwaist and know about their ancestors and trim a hat--"

"No, they couldn't!" contradicted Louise, who admired Winona very much.

"You just happen to be cleverer than the rest of us, that's all."

"I'm _not!_" said Winona as vehemently as it could be said in a whisper.

"Marie's getting her Wood-gatherer's ring to-night, too."

Mrs. Bryan's voice rose again in the same formula.

"Shawonda.s.see, tell us how you chose your name."

"Shawonda.s.see means 'South Wind,'" answered Marie's steady voice. "I chose the name because the South Wind coaxes instead of scolding, and I thought it was a good name to remind me to do the same thing. As my symbol I have chosen the willow shoots, because they come up year after year, no matter how often they are cut down, and I wish to have their perseverance."

"Perseverance and cheerfulness!" whispered Louise. "Who would have thought Marie needed either of them?"

"You can't tell much about Marie, because you never can get to her to talk about herself," answered Winona. "But she certainly is one of the hardest workers in the cla.s.s at school."

At this point the girls had to stop talking, to join in the Wood-gatherer's verses for Marie.

Nearly all Marie's required honors were Patriotism, for she was the student of the crowd.

"It fairly makes me s.h.i.+ver to think how much that girl knows," whispered Louise. "My honors are going to be plain home-craft-making pies and chaperoning ice-chests and ma.s.saging floors, and so forth."

"Will your mother let you?" asked Winona; for Mrs. Lane kept two maids, having the money to do it, and a big family.

"Let me!" exploded Louise. "She'll weep tears of joy if there's any prospect of my getting thinner!"

Just as Louise spoke there fell one of those uncanny silences which have a way of occurring at the worst possible times. Louise's statement pealed cheerfully through the room, and poor Louise, blus.h.i.+ng scarlet, tried to make herself very small-a hard matter.

The girls could not help laughing, but Mrs. Bryan had mercy on her embarra.s.sment, and went on with the awarding of the honor beads each girl had won since the last meeting. Winona's were rather various-a few from each cla.s.s. Helen's were nearly all hand-craft-stencilling and clay-modelling. She had brought along a bureau-scarf she had done, to show, and a beautiful little bowl she had modelled and painted and fired. Louise had only three beads so far, one for identifying birds, one for preserving, and one for making her ceremonial dress.

Edith Hillis, to everybody's surprise, was given an honor for folk-dancing, and proceeded, when she was asked, to get up and demonstrate. This held up the regular course of the meeting for quite a little while, because when she showed them the Highland Fling all the girls wanted to learn it. So for at least a half-hour they practised it, till the floor over Mr. Bryan's head, in his study beneath, must have seemed to be coming down.

After they had all tired themselves thoroughly they sang for awhile.

About midway of the second song Mrs. Bryan evidently remembered something, for she gave a start as if she were going to speak. As soon as they had finished she raised her hand for silence, and said:

"I have a message for Camp Karonya. It should be delivered at the business meeting, I suppose, but-it won't keep till then. The Boy Scouts, Camp No. Six, of this town, invite the Camp Fire Girls to a dance given by them in the school-house a.s.sembly-room next Wednesday night."

"Oh, how perfectly lovely!" cried Edith. "Of course we'll go!"

A confused noise of voices broke out, all speaking at once. You could catch an occasional word-"blue messaline," "white organdy,"

"orchestra," "how perfectly dandy!"-but for the most part it was just a noise.

Mrs. Bryan waited placidly till it had quieted down.

"What is your pleasure in this matter, Daughters of the Camp Fire?" she asked then.