just closed had been devoted to preparation for a Grand Council
wind-up for the fifteen Fires of the Institute, which would "break
ranks" on the following day and scatter in all directions for home and
the Christmas holidays.

And there was literal truth in this "break ranks" method of dismissing
school at the Institute. Since the United States entered the European
war on the side of the anti-frightfulness allies, Hiawatha had become
something of a military school. The girls actually drilled with guns,
and they would shoot those guns with all the grim fatality of so many
boys. Not that they expected to go to war and descend into the
trenches and fire hail-storms of steel-coated death-messengers at the
enemy. Oh, no. They might, but they were sensible enough not to let
their imagination carry them so far. But preparedness was in the air,
and the girls voted to a--a--girl (I almost said man, for they were as
brave as men in many respects) to take up military drill and tactics
two hours a week as a part of their curriculum.

Madame Cleaver, head of the Institute, did not start the military
movement rashly. She was carefully diplomatic in the conduct of her
school, for she must satisfy the critical tastes and ideas of a
high-class parentage clientele. But she also kept her fingers on the
pulse of affairs and knew pretty well how to strike a popular vein.
Hence the membership of her classes was always on the increase.
Indeed, at the beginning of this school year, she had to turn away
something like forty applicants, for want of room and accommodations.

Hiawatha Institute was founded as a Camp Fire Girls' school, and when
Uncle Sam became involved in the European war, the national need for
nurses appealed strongly to Camp Fire Girls everywhere. What could