suppose what happened to Gladys last night was one of the things you were talking about when you wanted us to be patient, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean, Dolly?”

“Why, when you said that pride went before a fall, and that she’d be sure to have something unpleasant happen if we only let her alone, and didn’t try to get even ourselves?”

“Well, it looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t get much satisfaction out of seeing people punished that way, though,” admitted Dolly, after a moment’s thought. “It seems to me—well, listen, Miss Eleanor. Suppose someone did something awfully nice for me. It wouldn’t be right, would it, for me just to say to myself, ‘Oh, well, something nice will happen to her.’ She might have some piece of good fortune, but I wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I’d want to do something nice myself to show that I was grateful.”

“Of course you would,” said Eleanor, who saw the point Dolly was trying to make and admired her power of working out a logical proposition.

“Well, then, if that’s true, why shouldn’t it be true if someone does something hateful to me? I don’t take any credit for the pleasant things that happen to people who are nice to me, so why should I feel satisfied because the hateful ones have some piece of bad luck that I didn’t have anything to do with, either?”

“That’s a perfectly good argument as far as it goes, Dolly. But the trouble is that it doesn’t go far enough. You’ve got a false step in it. Can’t you see where she goes wrong, Bessie?”

“I think I can, Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie. “It’s that we ought not to be glad when people are in trouble, even if they are mean to us, isn’t it? But we are glad, and ought to be, when nice people have good luck. So the two cases aren’t the same a bit, are they?”

“Right!” said Eleanor, heartily. “Think that over a bit, Dolly. You’ll see the point pretty soon and then maybe you’ll understand the whole business better.”

Just then the girls whose turn it had been to prepare breakfast came to the door of the Living Camp, which contained the dining-room and the kitchen, and a blast on a horn announced that breakfast was ready.

“Come on! We’ll eat our next meal sitting around a camp fire in the woods, if that forest fire has left any woods where we’re going,” announced Eleanor. “So we want to make this meal a good one. No telling what sort of places we’ll find on our tramp.”

“I bet it will be good fun, no matter what they’re like,” said Margery Burton, one of the other members of the Camp Fire. She was a Fire-Maker, the second rank of the Camp Fire. First are the Wood-Gatherers, to which Bessie and Dolly belonged; then the Fire-Makers, and finally, and next to the Guardian, whom they serve as assistants, the Torch-Bearers. Margery hoped soon to be made a Torch-Bearer, and had an ambition to become a Guardian herself as soon as Miss Eleanor and the local council of the National Camp Fire decided that she was qualified for the work.

“Oh, you’d like any old thing just because you had to stand for it, Margery, whether it was any good or not,” said Dolly.

“Well, isn’t that a good idea? Why, I even manage to get along with you, Dolly! Sometimes I like you quite well. And anyone who could stand for you!”

Dolly laughed as loudly as the rest. She had been pretty thoroughly spoiled, but her association with the other girls in the Camp Fire had taught her to take a joke when it was aimed at her, unlike most people who are fond of making jokes at the expense of others, and of teasing them. She recognized that she had fairly invited Margery’s sharp reply.

“We’ll have to hurry and get ready when breakfast is over,” said Eleanor as they were finishing the meal. “You girls whose turn it is to wash up had better get through as quickly as you can. Then we’ll all get the packs ready. We have to take the boat that leaves at half past nine for the other end of Lake Dean.”

“Why, there’s someone coming! It’s those girls from the other camp!” announced Dolly, suddenly. She had left the table, and was looking out of the window.

And, sure enough, when the Camp Fire Girls went out on the porch in a minute, they saw advancing the private school girls, whose snobbishness had nearly ruined their stay at Camp Sunset. Marcia Bates, who had been rescued with her friend, Gladys Cooper, acted as spokesman for them.

“We’ve come to tell you that we’ve all decided we were nasty and acted like horrid snobs,” she said. “We have found out that you’re nice girls—nicer than we are. And we’re very grateful—of course I am, especially—for you helping us. And so we want you to accept these little presents we’ve brought for you.”

Probably none of the Camp Fire Girls had ever been so surprised in their lives as when they heard the object of this utterly unexpected visit. Marcia’s eyes were rather blurred while she was speaking, and anyone could see that it was a hard task she had assumed.

It is never easy to confess that one has been in the wrong, and it was particularly hard for these girls, whose whole campaign against the Camp Fire party had been based on pride and a false sense of their own superiority, which, of course, had existed only in their imaginations.

For a moment no one seemed to know what to do or say. Strangely enough, it was Dolly, who had resented the previous attitude of the rich girls more than any of her companions, who found by instinct the true solution.

She didn’t say a word; she simply ran forward impulsively and threw her arms about Marcia’s neck. Then, and not till then, as she kissed the friend with whom she had quarreled, did she find words.

“You’re an old dear, Marcia!” she cried. “I knew you wouldn’t keep on hating us when you knew us better—and you’ll forgive me, won’t you, for playing that horrid trick with the mice?”

Dolly had broken the ice, and in a moment the stiffness of the two groups of girls was gone, and they mingled, talking and laughing naturally.

“I don’t know what the presents you brought are—you haven’t shown them to us yet,” said Dolly, with a laugh. “But I’m sure they must be lovely, and as for accepting them, why, you just bet we will!”

“You know,” said Marcia a little apologetically, “there aren’t any real stores up here, and we couldn’t get what we would really have liked, but we just did the best we could. Girls, get those things out!”

And then a dozen blankets were unrolled, beautifully woven Indian blankets, such as girls love to use for their dens, as couch covers and for hangings on the walls. Dolly exclaimed with delight as she saw hers.

“Heavens! And you act as if they weren’t perfectly lovely!” she cried. “Why, Marcia, how can you talk as if they weren’t the prettiest things! If that’s what you call just doing the best you can, I’m afraid to think of what you’d have got for us if you’d been able to pick out whatever you wanted. It would have been something so fine that we’d have been afraid to take it, I’m sure.”

“Well, we thought perhaps you’d find them useful if you’re going on this tramp of yours,” said Marcia, blushing with pleasure. “And I’m ever so glad you like them, if you really do, because I