he dark eyes. Olga understood. Elizabeth had no more voice than a
duckling, but she felt just then as if she could sing like a song
sparrow from sheer happiness. It was such a wonderful thing to be happy!
Elizabeth had never before known the joy of it.

But Mrs. Royall was speaking again. "Wohelo means work and health and
love," she said, "you all know that--the three best things in all this
beautiful world. Which of the three is best of all?"

Softly Anne Wentworth sang,

"'Wohelo means love,"

and instantly the girls took up the refrain,

"'Wohelo means love,
Wohelo means love.
Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.
Wohelo means love.'"

Laura's eyes, watching the young, earnest faces, filled with quick tears
as the refrain was repeated softly and lingeringly, again and yet again.
Mrs. Royall stood motionless until the last low note died into silence.
Then she went on:

"Work is splendid for mind and body. Some of you have worked for honours
and that is well. Some have worked for the love of the work--that is
better. Some have worked--or fought--for conquest over weakness, and
that is better yet. But two of our number have worked and conquered, not
for honour, not for love of labour, not even for self-conquest--but for
unselfish love of another. That is the highest form of service, dear
Camp Fire Girls--the service that is done in forgetfulness of self.
That is the thought I leave with you to-night."

She stepped back, and instantly each girl placed her right hand over her
heart and all together repeated slowly,

"'This Law of the Fire
I will strive to follow
With all the strength
And endurance of my body,
The power of my will,
The keenness of my mind,
The warmth of my heart,
And the sincerity of my spirit.'"

The fire had died down to glowing coals. At a sign from the Chief
Guardian two of the Fire Makers extinguished the embers, pouring water
over them till not a spark remained. The lanterns were relighted, the
procession formed again, and the girls marched back, singing as they
went.

"O dear, I can't bear to think that we shall not have another Council
Fire like this for months--even if we come here next summer," Mary
Hastings said when they were back in camp.

"And wasn't this the very dearest one!" cried Bessie Carroll. "With
Myra's honours and Elizabeth's, and Olga's headband--_wasn't_ she
surprised, though!"