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brooks； one to cut walking…sticks for her； another to peel her
oranges； and another to read Spanish with her； and so on。 Now； you
know very well that she will never get all this so long as Bell
Winship is in camp； for the boys think that Bell drags up the sun
when she's ready for him in the morning； and pushes him down at night
when she happens to feel sleepy。
We； who have known Bell always； cannot realise that any one can help
loving her； but there is something in Laura which makes it impossible
for her to see the right side of people。 She told me this morning
that she thought Bell had grown so vain and airy and self…conscious
that it was painful to see her。 I could not help being hurt； for you
know what Bell isbrimful of nonsense and sparkle and bright
speeches； but just as open as the day and as warm as the sunshine。
If she could have been spoiled； we should have turned her head long
ago； but she hasn't a bit of silly vanity； and I never met any one
before who didn't see the pretty charm of her brightness and
goodnessdid you？
And yet； somehow； Laura sticks needles into her every time she
speaks。 She feels them； too； but it only makes her quiet； for she is
too proud and sensitive to resent it。 I can see that she is
different in her ways； as if she felt she was being criticised。
Polly is quite the reverse。 If anybody hurts her feelings she makes
creation scream； and I admire her courage。
Aunt Truth doesn't know anything about all this； for Laura is a
different girl when she is with her or Dr。 Paul； not that she is
deceitful； but that she is honestly anxious for their good opinion。
You remember Aunt Truth's hobby that we should never defend ourselves
by attacking any one else； and none of us would ever complain； if we
were hung； drawn； and quartered。
Laura was miffed at having to play Audrey； but we didn't know that
she could come until the last moment； and we were going to leave that
part out。
'I don't believe you appreciate my generosity in taking this
thankless part；' she said to Bell； when we were rehearsing。 'Nobody
would ever catch you playing second fiddle； my dear。 All leading
parts reserved for Miss Winship； by order of the authors； I suppose。'
'Indeed； Laura；' Bell said； 'if we had known you were coming we would
have offered you the best part； but I only took Rosalind because I
knew the lines； and the girls insisted。'
'You've trained the girls wellhasn't she； Geoffrey？' asked Laura；
with a queer kind of laugh。
But I will leave the unpleasant subject。 I should not have spoken of
it at all except that she has made me so uncomfortable to…day that it
is fresh in my mind。 Bell and Polly and I have talked the matter all
over； and are going to try and make her like us； whether she wants to
or not。 We have agreed to be just as polite and generous as we
possibly can； and see if she won't 'come round；' for she is perfectly
delighted with the camp； and wants to stay a month。
Polly says she is going to sing 'Home Sweet Home' to her every night；
and drop double doses of the homoeopathic cure for home…sickness into
her tea； with a view of creating the disease。
Good…bye； and a hundred kisses from your loving
MARGERY DAW。
V。 THE CAMP POETESS ADDS HER STORE OF MENTAL RICHES TO THE GENERAL
FUND。
My darling；I have a thousand things to tell you； but I cannot
possibly say them in rhyme； merely because the committee insists upon
it。 I send you herewith all the poetry which has been written in
camp since last Monday； and it has been a very prosy week。
I have given them to papa； and he says that the best of my own； which
are all bad enough； is the following hammock…song。
I thought it out while I was swinging Margery； and here it is！ …
Tofro；
Dreamily； slow；
Under the trees；
Swingswing；
Drowsily sing
The birds and the bees；
Sleeprest；
Slumber is best；
Wakefulness sad；
Restsleep；
Forget how to weep；
Dream and be glad！
Papa says it is all nonsense to say that slumber is best and
wakefulness sad； and that it is possible to tell the truth in poetry。
Perhaps it is； but why don't they do it oftener； then？ And how was
he to know that Polly and Jack had just gone through a terrible
battle of words in which I was peacemaker； and that Dicky had been as
naughty asNeroall day？ These two circumstances made me look at
the world through blue glasses； and that is always the time one longs
to write poetry。
I send you also Geoff's verses； written to mamma； and slipped into
the box when we were playing Machine Poetry：…
I know a woman fair and calm；
Whose shining tender eyes
Make； when I meet their earnest gaze；
Sweet thoughts within me rise。
And if all silver were her hair；
Or faded were her face；
She would not look to me less fair；
Nor lack a single grace。
And if I were a little child；
With childhood's timid trust；
I think my heart would fly to her；
And lovebecause it must！
And if I were an earnest man；
With empty heart and life；
I think（but I might change my mind） …
She'd be my chosen wife！
Isn't that pretty？ Oh； Elsie！ I hope I shall grow old as
beautifully as mamma does； so that people can write poetry to me if
they feel like it！ Here is Jack's； for Polly's birthday； he says he
got the idea from a real poem which is just as silly as his：…
A pollywog from a wayside brook
Is a goodly gift for thee；
But a milk…white steed； or a venison sheep；
Will do very well for me。
For you a quivering asphodel
（Two ducks and a good fat hen）；
For me a withering hollyhock
（For seven and three are ten！）。
Rose…red locks and a pug for thee
（The falling dew is chill）；
A dove； a rope； and a rose for me
（Oh； passionate； pale…blue pill！）。
For you a greenery； yallery gown
（Hath one tomb room for four？）；
Dig me a narrow gravelet here
（Oh； red is the stain of gore！！）。
I told Jack I thought it extremely unhitched； but he says that's the
chief beauty of the imitation。
I give you also some verses intended for Polly's birthday； which we
shall celebrate； when the day arrives； by a grand dinner。
You remember how we tease her about her love for tea； which she
cannot conceal； but which she is ashamed of all the same。
Well！ I have printed the poem on a card； and on the other side
Margery has drawn the picture of a cross old maid； surrounded by
seven cats； all frying to get a drink out of her tea…cup。 Then Geoff
is going to get a live cat from the milk ranch near here； and box it
up for me to give to her when she receives her presents at the
dinner…table。 Won't it be fun？
OWED TO POLLY
BECAUSE OF HER BIRTHDAY。
She camps among the untrodden ways
Forninst the 'Mountain Mill'；
A maid whom there are few to praise
And few to wish her ill。
She lives unknown； and few could know
What Pauline is to me；
As dear a joy as are to her
Her frequent cups of tea。
A birthday this dear creature had；
Full many a year ago；
She says she is but just fifteen；
Of course she ought to know。
But still this gift I bring to her；
Appropriate to her age；
Regardless of her stifled scorn；
Or well conceal