elf to hold them. That will be better than having
them on the table," Elsie said.

"And I'll bring some growing plants for the window-sill," Laura
promised.

"O, I hope she'll just _love_ this room," Elsie cried, when reluctantly
they turned away.

"She will--you needn't be afraid," Olga assured her.

But Olga was the only one privileged to see Lizette when she had her
first glimpse of the room. She stopped short inside the door and looked
around her, missing no single detail. Then she turned to Olga a face
stirred with emotion too deep for words. When she did speak it was in a
whisper. "For _me_? Olga, who did it?"

"Miss Laura, Elsie, and Alice--and we all helped on the curtains and
covers."

"I just can't believe it. I--I must be dreaming. Don't let me wake up
till I enjoy it a little first," she pleaded. After a moment she added,
"And this all came through the Camp Fire, and my place at Miss Bayly's
too. Olga Priest, I'm a Camp Fire Girl heart and soul and body from now
on. I've been only the shell of one before, but now--now, I've got to
pass this on somehow. I must do things for other girls that have no one
and nothing--as they've done this for me."

And through Olga's mind floated like a glad refrain, "'Love is the joy of
service so deep that self is forgotten.'"

Olga was glad--glad with all her heart--for Lizette, and yet that first
evening she sat in her own room dreading to hear the tap on her door
which she expected every moment. At nine o'clock, however, it had not
come, and then she went across and did the knocking herself.

"Come in, come in," Lizette cried, as she opened her door.

"I've been expecting you over all the evening," Olga said, "and when you
didn't come I was afraid you were sick--or something."

Lizette looked at her with a queer little smile. "I know. You sat there
thinking that you'd never have any peace now with me so near; but you
needn't worry. I'm not going to haunt you. I've got a home corner here
all my own, and I know that you are there just across the hall, and
that's enough. It's going to _be_ enough."

"But I don't want you to feel that way," Olga protested. "I want you to
come."

"You _want_ to want me, you mean. O, I'm sharp enough, Olga, if I'm not
smart. I know--and I don't mean that you shall ever be sorry that you
brought me here. If I get way down in the doleful dumps some night I'll
knock at your door--perhaps. Anyhow, you're _there_, and that means a
lot