wide stone shelf were the words CAMP KEEWAYDIN traced in small,
glistening blue pebbles in a cement panel. Although the day was hot, a
small fire of paper and pine knots blazed on the hearth, crackling a
cheery welcome to the newcomers as they entered. In the center of the
room two long tables and a smaller one were set for dinner, and from the
regions below came the appetizing odor of meat cooking, accompanied by
the portentous clatter of an egg beater.

There was apparently an attic loft above the dining-room, for next to
the chimney a square opening showed in the raftered ceiling, with a
ladder leading up through it, fastened against the wall below. Up this
ladder a dozen or more of the younger girls scrambled as soon as they
entered the room; laughing, shrieking, tumbling over each other in their
haste; and after a moment of thumping and bouncing about, down they all
came dancing, clad in middies and bloomers, and raced, whooping like
Indians, down the path which led to the tents.

"Are we supposed to get into our bloomers right away?" Oh-Pshaw
whispered to Agony. "Ours are in the trunk, and it hasn't been brought
up yet."

"I don't believe we are," Agony returned, watching Mary Sylvester, who
stood talking to Pom-pom in the doorway of the Camp Director's office.
"None of the older girls are doing it; just the youngsters."

Just then Mrs. Grayson, the Camp Director's wife, came out of the office
and announced that dinner would be served immediately, after which the
tent assignments would be made. The Winnebagos found themselves seated
in a row down the side of one of the long tables, being served by a
jolly-looking, muscular-armed councilor, who turned out to be the Camp