of triumph. She forgot Louise Johnson's mocking
laugh--forgot everything but her beautiful new freedom.

"O, I did--I did, Mrs. Royall!" she cried out. "I was awfully frightened
at first, but coming home I wasn't _one bit afraid_, and, please, you
won't let them call me Bunny any more, will you?"

"No, my child, no. You've won a new name and you shall have it at the
next Council Fire. I'm so glad, Myra!" Mrs. Royall's face was almost as
radiant as the girl's.

It was Louise Johnson who called out, "Three cheers for Myra Karr! She's
a _trump_!"

The cheers were given with a will. Tears filled Myra's eyes, but they
were happy tears, as the girls crowded around her with questions and
exclamations, and Miss Grandis stood with a hand on her shoulder.

"That's what Camp Fire has done for one girl," Mrs. Royall said in a low
tone to Laura Haven. "That child was afraid of the dark, afraid of the
water, afraid to be alone a minute, when she came. It is a great triumph
for her--a great victory."

"Yes," returned Laura thoughtfully, and Anne added,

"You've no idea how lonesome the camp looked when Laura and I came back
and found you all gone. It was so still it seemed almost uncanny. Myra
never would have dared to stay alone here before."

IV

THE POOR THING

A week later Miss Grandis was called home by illness in her family, and
she asked Laura to drive to the station with her.

"I wanted the chance to talk with you," she explained, as they drove
along the quiet country road. "You know I should not have been able to
stay here much longer anyhow, and now I shall not come back, and I want
you to take charge of my girls. Will you?"

"O, I can't yet--I haven't had half enough training," Laura protested.

"I know, but you've put so much into the time you have had in camp, and
I know that Mrs. Royall will be glad to have you in my place. You can
keep on with your training just the same. I want to tell you about the
girls." She told something of the environment of each one--enough to
help Laura to understand their needs. "And there's Elizabeth Page, who
is coming to-morrow," she went on. "I always think of her as the Poor
Thing. O, I do so hope the Camp Fire will do a great deal for her--she's
had so pitifully little in her life thus far. Her mother died when she
was a baby, and she has been just a drudge for her stepmother and the
younger children, and she's not strong enough for such hard work. She's
never ha