The at the Seashore Part 4 (2/2)
”Yes, but even so, I want you to know that I'm sorry to feel that I should ask you to tell me. As a rule, I would rather let you girls work all these things out by yourselves, even if I see very plainly that you are making mistakes. I think you can sometimes learn more by doing a thing wrong, provided that you are following your own ideas, than by doing it right when you are simply doing what someone else tells you.”
”I see what you mean, Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie. ”But this time we really haven't done anything. We saw Gladys, too, and--”
She went on to tell of their talk with Marcia and of the unpleasant episode created by Gladys when she had overheard them talking.
”I think you've done very well indeed,” said Eleanor, with a sigh of relief, when she had heard the story. ”I was so afraid that you would lose your temper, Dolly. Not that I could really have blamed you if you had, but, oh, it's so much better that you didn't. So Gladys has decided to stay, has she?”
”Yes,” said Dolly. ”But Marcia seemed to think Miss Turner might make her go home.”
”She won't,” said Eleanor. ”She was thinking of it, but I have had a talk with her, and we both decided that that wouldn't do much good. It might save us some trouble, but it wouldn't do Gladys any good, and, after all, she's the one we've got to consider.”
Dolly didn't say anything, but it was plain from her look that she did not understand.
”What I mean is,” Eleanor went on, ”that there's a chance here for us to make a real convert--one who will count. It's easy enough to make girls understand our Camp Fire idea when they want to like it, and feel sure that they're going to. The hard cases are the girls like Gladys, who have a prejudice against the Camp Fire without really knowing anything at all about it. And if the Camp Fire idea is the fine, strong, splendid thing we all believe, why, this is a good time to prove it. If it is, Gladys won't be able to hold out against it.”
”That's what I've thought from the first, Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie. ”And I'm sure she will like us better presently.”
”Well, if she is willing to stay, she is to stay,” said Eleanor. ”And she is to be allowed to do everything the other girls do, except, of course, she can't actually take part in a Council Fire until she's a member. We don't want her to feel that she is being punished, and Miss Turner is going to try to make her girls treat her just as if nothing had happened. That's what I want our Manasquan girls to do, too.”
”They will, then, if I've got anything to say,” declared Dolly, vehemently. ”And I guess I've got more reason to be down on her than any of the others except Bessie. So if I'm willing to be nice to her, I certainly don't see why the others should hesitate.”
”Remember this, Dolly. You're willing to be nice to her now, but she may make it pretty hard. You're going to have a stiff test of your self-control and your temper for the next few days. When people are in the wrong and know it, but aren't ready to admit it and be sorry, they usually go out of their way to be nasty to those they have injured--”
”Oh, I don't care what she says or does now,” said Dolly. ”If I could talk to her to-night without getting angry, I think I'm safe. I never came so near to losing my temper without really doing it in my whole life before.”
”Well, that's fine, Dolly. Keep it up. Remember this is pretty hard for poor Miss Turner. Here she is, just starting in as a Camp Fire Guardian, and at the very beginning she has this trouble! But if she does make Gladys come around, it will be a great victory for her, and I want you and all of our girls to do everything you can to help.”
Then with a hearty good-night she turned away, and it was plain that she was greatly relieved by what Bessie and Dolly had told her.
”Well, I don't know what you're going to do, Bessie,” said Dolly, ”but I'm going to turn in and sleep! I'm just beginning to realize how tired I am.”
”I'm tired, too. We've really had enough to make us pretty tired, haven't we?”
And this time they were able to sleep through the whole night without interruption. The peace and calm of Plum Beach were disturbed by nothing more noisy than gentle waves, and the whole camp awoke in the morning vastly refreshed.
The sun shone down gloriously, and the cloud-less sky proclaimed that it was to be a day fit for any form of sport. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea, dying away to nothing sometimes, and the water inside the sand bar was so smooth and inviting that half a dozen of the girls, with Dolly at their head, scampered in for a plunge before breakfast.
”They're swimming over at the other camp, too,” cried Dolly. ”See? Oh, I bet we'll have some good times with them. We ought to be able to have all sorts of fun in the water.”
”Aren't there any boats here beside that old flat bottom skiff?” asked Bessie.
”Aren't there? Just wait till you see! If we hadn't had all that excitement yesterday Captain Salters would have brought the Eleanor over. He will to-day, too, and then you'll see!”
”What will I see, Dolly? Remember I haven't been here before, like you.”
”Oh, she's the dandiest little boat, Bessie--a little sloop, and as fast as a steamboat, if she's handled right.”
”Now we'll never hear the end of her,” said Margery Burton, with a comical gesture of despair. ”You've touched the b.u.t.ton, Bessie, and Dolly will keep on telling us about the Eleanor, and how fast she is, until someone sits on her!”
”You're jealous, Margery,” laughed Dolly, in high good humor. ”Margery's pretty clever, Bessie, and when it comes to cooking--my!” She smacked her lips loudly, as if to express her sense of how well Margery could cook. ”But she can't sail a boat!”
”Here's Captain Salters now--and he's towing the Eleanor, all right, Dolly,” cried one of the other girls.
”Oh, I'm so glad!” cried Dolly. ”Bessie, you've never been in a sail boat, have you? I'll have to show you how everything is done, and then we'll have some bully fine times together. You'll love it, I know.”
”She won't if she's inclined to be seasick,” said Margery. ”The trouble with Dolly is that she can never have enough of a good thing. The higher the wind, the happier Dolly is. She'll keep on until the boat heels away over, and until you think you're going over the next minute--and she calls that having a good time!”
”Well, I never heard you begging me to quit, Margery Burton!” said Dolly. ”You're an old fraud--that's what you are! You pretend you are terribly frightened, and all the time you're enjoying it just as much as I am. I wish there was some way we could have a race. That's where the real fun comes in with a sail boat.”
”You could get all the racing you want over at Bay City, Dolly. The yacht club there has races every week, I think.”
”But Miss Eleanor would never let me sail in one of those races, Margery. I guess she's right, too. I may be pretty good for a girl, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have a chance with those men.”
Margery pretended to faint.
”Listen to that, will you?” she exclaimed. ”Here's Dolly actually saying that someone might be able to do something better than she could! I'll believe in almost anything after that!”
”Well, you can laugh all you like,” said Dolly, with spirit. ”But if we should have a race, I'll be captain, and I know some people who won't get a chance to be even on the crew. They'll feel pretty sorry they were so fresh, I guess, when they have to stay ash.o.r.e cooking dinner while I and my crew are out in the sloop!”
Then from the beach came the primitive call to breakfast--made by the simple process of pounding very hard on the bottom of a frying pan with a big tin spoon. That ended the talk about Dolly's qualifications as a yacht captain, and there was a wild rush to the beach, and to the tents, since those who had been in for an early swim could not sit down to breakfast in their wet bathing suits. But no one took any great length of time to dress, since here the utmost simplicity ruled in clothes.
”Well, what's the programme for to-day, girls?” asked Eleanor, after the meal was over.
”Each for herself!” cried half a dozen voices. And a broken chorus rose in agreement.
”I want to fis.h.!.+” cried one.
”A long walk for me!” said another.
”I'd like to make up a party to go over to Bay City and buy things. We haven't been near a store for weeks!” suggested another.
”All right,” said Eleanor. ”Everyone can do exactly what she likes between the time we finish clearing up after lunch and dinner. I think we'll have the same rule we did at Long Lake--four girls attend to the camp work each day, while the other eight do as they like. You can draw lots or arrange it among yourselves, I don't care.”
”Yes, that's a fine arrangement,” said Dolly. ”It's a little harder for the four who work than it would be if we all pitched in, but no one really has to work any harder, for all that.”
”It's even in the long run,” said Eleanor. ”And it gives some of you a chance to do things that call for a whole afternoon. All agreed to that, are you?”
It was Eleanor's habit, whenever possible, to submit such minor details of camp life to a vote of the girls. Her authority, of course, was complete. If she gave an order, it had to be obeyed, and she had the right, if she decided it was best, to send any or all of the girls home. But--and many guardians find it a good plan--she preferred to give the girls a good deal of lat.i.tude and real independence.
One result was that, whenever she did give a positive order, it was obeyed unquestioningly. The girls knew by experience that usually she was content to suggest things, and even agree to methods that she would not herself have chosen, and, as they were not accustomed to receiving positive orders on all sorts of subjects, they understood without being told that there was a good reason for those that were issued. Another result, of course, and the most important, was that the girls, growing used to governing themselves, grew more self-reliant, and better fitted to cope with emergencies.
The girls were still was.h.i.+ng the breakfast dishes when Marcia Bates walked along the beach and was greeted with a merry hail by Dolly and the others.
”I'm here as an amba.s.sador or something like that,” she announced. ”That little sloop out there is yours, isn't she?”
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