"That's the way to talk, dear," nodded Patricia. "Let's take a walk.

Forget the mean things I just said to you, but I had to do it to put some spunk into you."

"There comes that Margery girl," exclaimed Cora.

"Don't mind her. She wouldn't see the side of a house if it were set up right in front of her. I can't say as much for that perfectly impossible Grace Thompson. She is as sharp as she can be, and she isn't afraid to speak right out before everybody. Didn't you see how she held her ground last night when most of the others ran away."

"Oh, she was in the secret. She knew all about it," answered Cora Kidder.

"That's where you make a mistake. She didn't. Didn't you see how frightened she was at first?"

Cora shook her head.

"You must keep your eyes open," advised Patricia. "You've gone too far to take any chances; that is, any more than you have to take. She was going to run, then she held herself steady by sheer grit. I don't like her, I don't like any of them, but I know real courage when I see it and she showed it last night."

"Harriet knew, though?"

"Oh, yes; she was in the game. Of course she was. It was a shame. She ought to be put out of the camp. She will be. There isn't room here for her and me."

Patricia linked an arm in that of Cora's, walking away to a spot where they might be more by themselves. There were too many girls passing back and forth now to make prudent a discussion such as was theirs.

A good part of the afternoon found Harriet Burrell in the kitchen of the cook tent. Harriet was trying to win an "honor" by making soup. By making five standard soups consecutively she would win another bead, provided the soups were favorably received by the Camp Wau-Wau Girls.

Harriet's first day in the kitchen resulted in more confusion than the kitchen had known that season. It seemed that everything was misplaced.

The dinner was late that night, but the soup was excellent. The other girls in the kitchen made no complaint about the confusion, which they believed to be due to carelessness on Harriet's part, because the misplaced articles and various ingredients scattered about were those which she had used in her work.

The next day conditions were no different. Patricia, who was preparing salads for an "honor" finally threw up her hands in disgust. She declared she could stand it no longer and if some of the girls didn't remove Harriet from the kitchen, she, Patricia would have to get out herself.

Somehow this word reached Mrs. Livingston, with the result that Patricia herself was asked to drop her "honor" work in the kitchen for the present.

It was a blow to Patricia Scott. She had not looked for this result, and though she had not made the complaint in person, her criticism of Harriet had been a boomerang that had returned and hit Patricia. This made the girl even more bitter against Harriet than before.

The following two days brought with them less friction in the kitchen.

Harriet Burrell's soups delighted the girls and the guardians; many were the compliments bestowed upon the blushing Harriet.

It was now the fifth day of Harriet's soup-making; the last in the test for the "honor." It seemed a foregone conclusion that the young woman had won her bead for this achievement in cookery. Harriet naturally felt gratified. It meant something to win even one bead in the Camp Girls'

Association as every member of the organization had soon come to know. No girl ever had won all of the "honors" these "honors" covering so many fields of achievement as to make this well-nigh impossible.

"Well, Miss Burrell," smiled the Chief Guardian that evening after they had sat down to the tables and grace had been said. "I suppose you will be entitled to wear a new bead to-morrow."

"I hope so, Mrs. Livingston," answered Harriet with a blush.

"Wait till you try the thoup," suggested Tommy.

"I agree with you," said Hazel.

"Your friends do not seem to have the same confidence in your soup making that the rest of us feel," smiled Miss Partridge.

"Perhaps that is because they know my shortcomings better than you do, Miss Partridge," replied Harriet.

A close observer might have seen Patricia and Cora exchange meaning glances.

There was a lively chattering along the tables while the girls were waiting for the serving of the first course, the soup. This was brought to the table in great tureens, one for each table, the guardian who sat at the head of the table serving the soup which was passed along to the other end by the girls themselves. In this case it was Miss Elting who was doing the serving at the table at which the Meadow-Brook Girls were seated.

"This consomme certainly looks delicious," she said with a smile.

"From the smell I should say it must be," declared Jane McCarthy. "I know I could die eating that soup."

"Be careful," warned a voice. "You may."

"I say girls, let's wait till Harriet samples it," suggested Hazel. "It is her last chance at the soup. There's no telling what she might do to us."

"Yeth, that ith right," nodded Grace. "No poithon cup for uth."

"Taste it, darlin'," urged Jane.

Harriet with a good natured smile dipped her spoon in daintily, carrying some of the steaming soup to her lips. She tasted the consomme gingerly, then took another spoonful, and hurriedly put the spoon back in the dish.

A horrified expression appeared on the face of the Meadow-Brook girl.

"There! What did I tell you?" cried Margery.

"What is the trouble?" asked Miss Partridge.

"Oh-h-h!" gasped Harriet, making a desperate effort to control herself.

A girl on the other side of the table from Miss Burrell, sampled the soup, then hastily dropped her spoon. Margery followed suit a moment later.

"How is it?" questioned Hazel.

"Please don't ask me," declared Margery gloomily.

Miss Elting made a wry face when she tasted the consomme, but said nothing. Some went on eating, others laid down their spoons and leaned back in their chairs. Tommy was the first to break the silence that had settled over the table.

"There ith thomething the matter with thith thoup," she declared in a loud voice.

"That's what I say," answered a voice.

"And I, and I, and I," cried other voices.

"Yes, I agree with you," answered Miss Partridge gravely. "Harriet what did you put in the soup?"

"The usual ingredients."

Mrs. Livingston at this juncture sampled the soup. Her face darkened. She swallowed a spoonful, then quickly laid the spoon on the soup plate.

Harriet had shrunk back into her chair. A deep flush rose to her face. To cover her confusion she essayed to take some more soup, but the effort was a failure. She simply could not eat the consomme.

"It tathteth to me like thoap," declared Tommy.

"I believe it is soap," spoke up Patricia Scott. "How perfectly frightful!"