s far-away country we
might at least have a _little_ rest."

Billy Webster's manner was that of a spoiled and fretful boy;
nevertheless an uncomfortable silence followed his speech.

Ever it appears impossible in this world, even among a small group of
persons, to preserve entire harmony! In spite of his youth and his
fragility, in spite of his quiet voice and oftentimes gentle manner,
Billy Webster, from the time he ceased wearing dresses, had been able to
sow discord. The trouble was that Billy always refused to think like the
people surrounding him.

At present, when the entire Camp Fire party was interested heart and
soul in the successful carrying on of the war, Billy had announced
himself a pacifist. If he had contented himself with the mere
announcement, his friends and family would have accepted his point of
view with comparative equanimity. But with Billy the frequent
exposition of his opinions was as the breath of life.

At this moment Vera Lagerloff leaned over to say in a whisper:

"For goodness' sake, Billy, please don't start an argument now on the
subject of the war. You know how intensely Mrs. Burton disapproves of
your ideas and how angry you make Dan."

Peggy descended from her rocky platform at this instant and joined the
group. She was wearing her workaday Camp Fire costume and had her dark
hair braided in two braids with a red band about her forehead.

"What is it, Peggy? You look as if you had something important to
confide to us?" Mrs. Burton asked quickly, hoping to stem the flood of
eloquence with which her nephew ordinarily met opposition. "I confess I
am as curious as Billy to know why you sounded a bugle call at this hour
of the afternoon."

Peggy sat down in camp-fire fashion on the ground, frowning and looking
extremely serious. A bunch of pale lavender sea verbena she had gathered
nearer the shore, she dropped in her mother's lap.

She did not know what Billy had been saying, but she was conscious that
the atmosphere about her was uncomfortable.

Dan had not moved from his patient attitude, in order that Sally Ashton
might continue to unwind her wool, yet his expression was not like his
usual sweet-tempered one. Peggy at once surmised that Billy was in some
way responsible for the unrest.

"Perhaps my bugle call was a little theatrical," she began;
"nevertheless it was the call to service of our new order of 'Camp Fire
Minute Girls.'"

Mrs. Burton nodded. "Yes, I remember. T