id="id00039">"Why, it gives her the splendid health so necessary to every woman, and oh! if only you'd read about it. You won't listen, but they learn how to cook, how to market, to wash and iron, and keep house, how to take care of babies,—and don't you see if a girl marries a poor man she can be a help to him and not a hindrance? Then they have to be kind and courteous, to look for and find the beauties of Nature until work becomes a pleasure and they're happy, cheerful and trustworthy. They give their services to others and learn something new all the time."

"My dear Kate," said her aunt, "nowadays a girl has all she can possibly do to fit herself for her future position in society; that is, if her family amounts to anything socially. Why should a girl learn to cook and market unless she intends to marry a poor man, and I don't propose that Ethel shall ever do that. And as for being so athletic, I don't approve of that either. It's all right for a girl to ride. Ethel is a good horsewoman; she learned from a splendid riding master. She plays tennis, golf, and can swim; so you see she has nearly all the requirements of Camp Fire Girls."

"Oh, Aunt Bella, she has hardly any. Why, look at the Boy Scout movement—how marvellous it is and how it has grown. It has become an institution, and in England when several Boy Scouts while camping out were drowned, the Government (think of it) sent out a gunboat—sent it up the Thames to bring their bodies back to London. Think of the National recognition. Why, it's spreading so that every boy will become a Scout before long. And the good that they do no one knows."

"Well, my dear," said the elder lady, "you are an enthusiast, and naturally as you are a 'Captain' or 'Guardian,' as they call it, your sympathies are all with the organization. But to me it's like marching with the suffragettes. It belongs to the women who favor 'Woman's Rights,' but not for a girl like Ethel."

"But you certainly approve of the 'Scout' movement, don't you? Why, boys are joining from every rank of life."

"Ah! my dear," broke in Mrs. Hollister, "that's the great trouble. They are from every rank, and that's why I object. Had I a son I should not care to have him become interested in it, and for a girl like Ethel to rub shoulders with 'Tom, Dick and Harry,' it's simply not to be thought of. No, when she marries I trust it will be to a man who can afford to give her enough servants to do the work, a chauffeur to run her automobile, and a captain to sail her yacht. I hope she'll have a competent cook to bake her breads and prepare the soups, roasts, salads, and make preserves. I should feel very badly if she had to wash and iron, wipe her floors, or do any menial work. Were such a thing to happen, I hope I shall not live to see it, that's all. No, kindly drop the subject. Ethel is but sixteen. She'll have all she can do to finish at Madame La Rue's by the time she's eighteen. You know how hard your Uncle Archie works to obtain the money to pay for Ethel's education, and how I manage to keep up appearances on so little. It's all for Ethel. It means everything for her future. She must have the best associates, and when she graduates go with the fashionable set. We are very poor and she must marry well and have her own establishment. All of this Camp Girl business would be of no earthly benefit to her. It's only a fad and I believe not only that, but the 'Scout' movement will die a natural death after a while. Young people must have some way to work off their superfluous energy; these Societies help them to do so. Now remember, Kate, you have a fairly well-to-do father and you need not worry over your future. Not so poor Ethel. That I have to look out for. Please do not refer to this subject again, especially before her. I mean it and shall resent it if you do. I'm sure you'll respect my wishes in the matter."

"Of course, I shall, Aunt Bella," replied Kate, "but were you to more thoroughly understand this new movement I'm sure you'd view it differently and change your mind. The Boy Scouts have done so much good, and now this Camp Fire Girl is going to be such an improvement over the ordinary girl. She's going to revolutionize young women and make of them useful members of society—not frivolous butterflies—and it will be carried into the poorer classes and teach girls who have never had a chance, so that they may become good cooks and housekeepers and love beautiful things. And their costume is so pretty and sensible. Oh! I wish you could see it with my eyes."

"To me, my dear, it is very like the Salvation Army. They wear badges and uniforms, and they too do much good, I am told. Yet I shouldn't care to have my Ethel become a member of that organization. But hush—remember your promise—not a word. Here she comes."

CHAPTER II

ETHEL HOLLISTER

A young girl entered. She was lovely with the beauty of a newly opened rose. Her features were exquisite. Her rippling brown hair matched her eyes in color. Her complexion was creamy white with a faint touch of pink in either cheek. Although her figure was girlish it was perfectly formed and she carried herself well; still she looked delicate.

The mother and daughter were alike save where Mrs. Hollister's face was hard and worldly, Ethel's was soft and innocent.

"Well, dearie," said her mother, "here's an invitation for you from the Kips. Dorothy will celebrate her fifteenth birthday on Saturday with a luncheon and matinee party."

"Oh, how perfectly lovely," exclaimed the girl, showing her pretty teeth as she laughed. "Dorothy is such a dear. Why, she hardly knows me. She's only been at Madame's half a term."

"Never under-rate yourself, Ethel," spoke up Mrs. Hollister. "Remember that you belong to one of New York's oldest families. Although you have but little money, people are sure to seek you not only for your family name but because you are an acquisition to any society."

Ethel blushed painfully while Cousin Kate gazed out upon the budding leaves on a tree in front of the Hollister house. By a keen observer her private opinion might be read in every line of her face. She loved Ethel and her grandmother—old Mrs. Hollister. She pitied her Uncle Archie, but she despised her Aunt Bella and rejoiced that at least none of that lady's blood flowed in her veins. She worried over Ethel who, notwithstanding her mother's worldliness was as yet unspoiled, for the child inherited much of her father's good sense. Still under the constant influence of a woman of Mrs. Hollister's type it would be strange if the daughter failed to follow in some of her mother's footsteps or to imbibe some of her fallacies.

"I'm going up to tell Grandmamma," said Ethel, and bursting into the room she kissed the old lady.

"Listen, Grandmamma, I'm invited to Dorothy Kip's birthday—a luncheon and matinee party."

"That's lovely, my darling," replied the elderly woman. "When does it come off?"

"Next Saturday, and I presume we'll go to Sherry's to lunch. Think of it! I've never been there—I'm so glad," and she danced around the room. "And my new grey broadcloth suit with silver fox will be just right to wear. You know the lovely grey chiffon waist over Irish lace that Mamma has just finished, and my grey velvet hat with rosebuds and silver fox fur—won't it be stunning?"

"You'll look lovely, I know. But where is Cousin Kate?"

"Oh, she's with Mamma. I entered the room while they were in the midst of an argument and they stopped suddenly. I guess it was about me. You know how set Mamma is in her way, and she was reading the riot act about something. As Kate leaves here tomorrow, shouldn't you think that Mamma would be too