"I'm so sorry!" said Winona, who found she had all the talking to do.

"I'm afraid your uncle doesn't like it!"

"Oh, he's only got an artistic temp'rament," said Vicky, as if it were a disease uncles could not help. "I think Sandy's goin' to, too. Do stay to breakfast. We'll have things out o' your basket if you will."

"No, thank you," said Winona. "I think Louise is in a hurry to go home.

Come over and see us. It isn't far if you have a boat."

"We'll get somebody to bring us," said Vicky. "I'd come now if I was dressed."

"It wouldn't be a bad plan if you dressed a little earlier," said Winona frankly. "Are there just you two?"

"Nope," said Vicky, "there's Lancy, too. He's eight. Uncle Will tries to bring us up, but he don't know how so very well."

"Well, when you come down to camp we can tell you a lot of things if you'd like us to," said Winona.

"Maybe," said Vicky indifferently. "But it's all right this way. You can try telling us, though."

"Well, good-bye," said Louise-it was all she had contributed to the conversation, but she seemed to contribute it gladly.

So they went, still carrying the basket.

"Wait!" called Sandy's voice behind them when they had gone a little way. "I'm goin' back wiv you! You said you'd 'dopted me!"

"But we didn't know your uncle wasn't poor then," said Louise. "We can't take you away from him."

"You 'dopted me," said Sandy doggedly, "an' I'm goin' wiv you-so there!" And she thrust her wet little hand into Louise's and trotted along beside them. "Louise-wasn't there cake in the basket?"

"You have cake at home, dear," said Louise. But she looked as if she felt a little better. After all, even if an orphan didn't need adopting, it was a pleasure to find that she liked it.

"Like you best," insisted Sandy. "Goin' to stay wiv you. They don't care!"

"Oh, let's let her, just for to-day, anyhow!" said Winona. "I don't believe anybody'll mind."

"All right," said Louise rather as if she wanted to. They got into the boat again, and rowed to camp.

"Sandy," asked Louise, "what did you mean by saying your father drank?

You haven't any father."

"Well, I did have," said Sandy. "And of sourse he did dwink when there was a him. Evvybody does. Little flowers do. My governess said so."

"Your _governess!_" said Louise. "Is your uncle rich enough for you to have a governess-and you go trailing round in your underwaist and petticoat!"

"When he draws pictures an' sells 'em he is. When he don't he don't.

Gimme some cake?"

Sandy was evidently quite calm about her way of living.

"She mayn't need adopting, but she certainly needs reforming," said Louise vigorously.

They were paddling past the Scouts' camp by now. Louise was quite willing to go past softly, but Sandy yelled, for she saw Billy.

"h.e.l.lo, girls!" he called. "Back already? Got all the papers signed?"

"No, I haven't," said Louise. "And, Billy, if you ask me any more questions, I'll jump over and drown!"

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Camp Fire might all grin broadly whenever it spoke of Louise's adoption-even more broadly than it had at Winona's cat-collection: but the adoptee herself was quite serious about it. Adopted she was by the Camp Fire in general and Louise in particular, and adopted she meant to stay. She went home once in awhile-there was n.o.body to worry about her, it seemed, when she stayed away-but as a rule she considered herself a Camp Fire Girl. She was too young to be a Blue Bird, but that didn't make any difference. Finally she was given the official position of third sub-mascot, ranking after Puppums and Hike the Camp Cat.

Unofficially, she got better training than she appeared to have had for some time, for she knew that to stay in Camp she had to obey rules.

Vicky never did come over. Once in awhile they would return Sandy to her home, just for politeness, but it didn't seem to be specially required of them.

"We ought to have a grand entertainment," declared Marie one day, "and invite all the summer people who bought our things."

"Yes," Louise approved, "and then, perhaps, if we made them happy, they'd buy some more."

"Well, I was thinking of charging for the entertainment," demurred Marie.

"But wouldn't it be piling things up just a wee bit too much?" asked Louise.

"Perhaps," admitted Marie.

"What were you thinking of having?" asked Winona.

It was at the end of a weekly Council Fire, and the girls were lying about, as usual, on the hill.

"I was wondering"-from Marie a little doubtfully-"if we could have some tableaux from Maeterlinck, with readings. I could do the readings."

"What's Maeterlinck?" asked Louise cheerfully. "Something good to eat?"

"No, you goose!" instructed Marie. "He wrote the 'Blue Bird,' and-oh, a lot of plays."

"Nice ones?" asked Louise. "Lots of people running around doing exciting things?"

"No," admitted Marie. "Nothing much happens. But it's very elevating."

"I don't feel as if I wanted to be elevated, somehow," said Louise firmly, "and I'm sure those summer people don't; they come here to relax and enjoy themselves, and when they want something really high-brow they go to the movies and see bears and lions eating each other. They can do that right in the place itself."

"I don't believe they'd come to a Maeterlinck show, either, Marie," so said Mrs. Bryan. "We can take him up to read this winter, if the girls want to know more about him. But he isn't exactly the author for a summer entertainment-especially if we want to make money."

"We do," said Marie who had a strictly practical side to her.

"Does it have to be an author?" Helen wanted to know.

"It seems to," said Louise.