"I think the fire is more beautiful than anything else, almost," said the Guardian, as she looked at it and pointed it out to Bessie and Zara. "It means so much."

"It looks like a welcome, Wanaka."

"That's just what it is—a real, hearty welcome. It shows us that our sisters of the fire are there waiting for us, ready to make us comfortable after the trouble of the day. Around the fire we can forget all the bad things that have happened, and think only of the good."

"It's easy to do that now. I've been frightened since Jake locked Zara up in the woodshed, awfully frightened. And I've been unhappy, too. But I've been happier in these last two days than I ever was before."

"That's the right spirit, Bessie. Make your misfortunes work out so that you think only of the good they bring. That's the way to be happy, always. You know, it's an old, old saying that every cloud has a silver lining, but it's just as true as it's old, too. People laugh at those old proverbs sometimes,—people who think they know more than anyone else ever did—but in the end they usually admit that they don't really know much more about life and happiness than the people who discovered those great truths first, or spoke about them first, even if someone else had discovered them."

"I've been happy, too," said Zara, but there was a break in her voice. "If I only knew that my father was all right, then I wouldn't be able to be anything but happy, now that I know Farmer Weeks can't take me with him."

"You must try not to worry about your father, Zara. I'm sure that all his troubles will be mended soon, just like yours. Don't you feel that someone has been looking after you in all your troubles?"

"Oh, yes! I never, never would have been able to get away from Farmer Weeks except for that—"

"Well, just try to think that He will look after your father, too, Zara. If he has done nothing wrong he can't be punished, you may be sure of that. This isn't Russia, or one of those old countries where people can be sent to prison without having done anything to deserve it, just because other people with more money or more power don't like them. We live in a free country. Be sure that all will turn out right in the end."

"I feel cramped, Miss Eleanor. May I get out and run along by the horses for a little while?"

"Yes, indeed, Zara."

And Wanaka stopped the wagon, so that she could get out.

"Do you want to go, too, Bessie?"

"I think I'd rather ride, Miss Eleanor. I'm awfully tired."

"You shall, then. I want you to do whatever you like to-night. You've certainly done enough to-day to earn the right to rest."

They rode along in silence for a few minutes, while the glow of the great welcoming fire grew brighter.

"Miss Eleanor?"

"Yes, Bessie?"

"Don't you think it's very strange that Farmer Weeks should take so much trouble to try to get hold of Zara?"

"I do, indeed, Bessie. I've been puzzling about that."

"I believe he knows something about her and her father that no one else knows, something that even Zara doesn't know about, I mean. You know, he and Zara's father were very friendly at first—or, at least, they used to see one another a good deal."

"Yes? Bessie, what sort of man is Zara's father? You have seen a good deal of him, haven't you?"

"I used to go to see Zara sometimes, when I was able to get away. And unless he was away on one of his trips he was always around, but he never said much."

"He could speak English, couldn't he?"

"Yes, but not a bit well. And when I first went there he was awfully funny. He seemed to be quite angry because I was there, and as soon as I came, he rushed into one of the rooms, and put a lot of things away, and covered them so I couldn't see them. But Zara talked to him in their own language, and then he was very nice, and he gave me a penny. I didn't want it, but he made me take it and Zara said I ought to have it, too."

"It looks as if he had had something to hide, Bessie. But then a man might easily want to keep people from finding out all about his business without there being anything wrong."

"If you'd seen him, Miss Eleanor, I'm sure you wouldn't think he'd do anything wrong. He had the nicest face, and his eyes were kind. And after that, sometimes, I'd go there when Zara was out, and he was always just as nice and kind as he could be. He used to get me to talk to him, too, so that he could learn to speak English."

"Well, there's something very strange and mysterious about it all. You found this Mr. Weeks there the night he was taken away, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"That looks as if he had something to do with it. I don't know—but we'll find out the truth some time, Bessie."

"I hope it will be soon. And, Miss Eleanor, I've been waiting a long time to find out about myself, too. Sometimes I think I'm worse off than Zara, because I don't know where my father and mother are, or even what became of them."

The Guardian started.

"Poor Bessie!" she said. "But we'll have to try to find out for you. There are ways of doing that that the Hoovers would never think of. And I'm sure there'll be some explanation. They'd never just go away and leave you, without trying to find out if you were well and look after you."

"Not if they could help it, Miss Eleanor." Bessie's eyes filled with tears. "But perhaps they couldn't. Perhaps they are—dead."

"We must try to be cheerful, Bessie. After all, you know, they say no news is good news, and when you don't positively know that something dreadful has happened, you can always go on hoping."

"Oh, I do, Miss Eleanor! Sometimes I've felt so bad that if I hadn't been able to hope, I don't know what I'd have done. And Jake Hoover, he used to laugh at me, and say that I'd never see them again. He said they were just bad people, glad to get rid of me, but I never believed that."

"That's right, Bessie. You keep on hoping, and we'll do all we can to make your hopes true. Hope is a wonderful thing for people who are in trouble. They can always hope that things will be better, and if they only hope hard enough, they will come to believe it. And once you believe a thing, it's half true, especially when it's a question of doing something."

"How do you mean?"

"Why, I'll try to explain. When Mrs. Chester first wanted me to take charge of a Camp Fire, I thought I was just a silly, stupid, useless girl. But she said she knew I wasn't, and that I could make myself useful."

"You certainly have."

"I'm trying, Bessie, all the time. Well, she told me to wish that I might succeed. And I did. And then I began to hope for it and to want it so much that gradually I believed I could. And as soon as I believed it myself, why, it began to come."

"You wanted to so much—that's why, I suppose."

"Yes. You see, when you believe you can do a thing, you don't get discouraged when you fail at first. It's when you're doubtful and think you can't do a thing at all, that it's hardest. Then when anything goes wrong, it's just what you expected, and it makes you surer than ever that you're going to fail."

"Oh, I see that! I understand now, I think."

"Remember that, Bessie. It's done me more good, knowing that, than almost anything else I can think of. When you start to do a thing, no matter how hard it is, be hopeful and confident. Then the set-backs won't bother you, because you'll know that it's just because you've chosen the wrong way, and you go back and start again, looking for the right way."

"Oh, look!" said Bessie, suddenly. "Isn't it growing black? Do you see that big cloud? And I'm sure I felt drops of rain just then."

"I believe it is going to rain. That's too bad. It will spoil the great Council Fire."

"Won't they have it if it rains?"

"I'm not sure whether there's a big enough place inside or not. But, even if there is, it's much better fun to have it out of doors—a great big fire always seems more cheerful if it's under the trees, so that the great shadows can dance about. And the singing sounds so much better in the open air, too. Oh, I do hope this won't be a real storm!"

But that hope was doomed to disappointment. The rain came down slowly at first, and in great drops, but as the wagons neared the fire and got under the shelter of the trees, the wind rose, and soon the rain was pouring down in great sheets, with flashes of lightning now and then. As they climbed out by the fire it hissed and spluttered as the rain fell into it. No girls were in sight.

"They must all have gone in to get out of the rain, or else they'd be out here to welcome us," said the Guardian. "Oh, there's Mrs. Chester! I knew she wouldn't let the rain keep her!"

And Wanaka ran forward to greet a sweet-faced woman whose hair was slightly tinged with grey, but whose face was as rosy and as smiling as that of a young girl. Bessie and Zara followed Eleanor shyly, but Mrs. Chester put them at their ease in a moment.

"I've heard all about you," she said. "And I'm not going to start in by telling you I'm sorry for you, either, because I'm not!"

Had it not been for the laugh that was in her eyes, and her smile, the words might have seemed unkind.

"I don't believe in being sorry for what's past," the Chief Guardian explained at once. "If people are brave and good, trouble only helps them. And it's the future we must think about, always. That is in your own hands now, and I'm sure you're going to deserve to be happy—and if you do, you can't help finding happiness. That's what I mean."

The two girls liked her at once. There was something so motherly, so kind and wholesome about Mrs. Chester, that they felt as if they had known her a long time.

"I don't know about the Council Fire to-night, Eleanor," she said, looking doubtfully at the rain. "It's too damp, I'm afraid, to have it outdoors, and you know that there are so many times when we have to hold the ceremonial fires indoors, that I hate to do it when, by waiting a day, we can have it in this beautiful place."

"Yes, that's so," said Eleanor. "It's almost sure to be clear to-morrow. And in winter, when it gets cold, we can't even hope to be outdoors very much, except for skating and snowshoeing. Do you know, girls, that in winter we sometimes use three candles instead of a real fire?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Chester. "Of course, after all, it's the meaning of the fire, and not just the fire itself that counts. But I think it's better to have both when we can. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait until to-morrow night for your first Council Fire, girls."

Eleanor looked at them. Then she laughed.

"Really, it's a good thing, after all," she said. "They're so tired that they can hardly keep their eyes open now, Mrs. Chester. I hope there's going to be a good, hot supper."

"There certainly is, my dear! And your girls won't have to cook it, either. Just for to-night you're to be guests of honor. And the new Camp Fire—the Snug Harbor camp, you know—begged me so hard to be allowed to cook the meal and serve it, that I agreed. Julia Kent has done wonders with those girls. You'd think they'd been cooking and working all their lives, instead of it having been just the other way 'round. And they simply worship her. Well, there are your tents over there. You'll hear the call to supper in a few minutes."

She turned and left them, and Eleanor led the way to the tents she had pointed out.

"I'm so delighted to hear about the Snug Harbor girls," she told Bessie and Zara. "You know we've wondered how that was going to turn out. There are about a dozen of them, and they're all girls whose parents are rich. They go to Europe, and have motor cars, and lovely clothes, and servants—two or three of them have their own maids, and they've never even learned to keep their own rooms neat."

"But if they're going to cook our supper—"

"That's just it, Bessie. That's what the Camp Fire has done for them. It has taught them that instead of being proud of never having to do anything for themselves, they ought to be ashamed of not knowing how. And before the summer's over I believe they'll be the best of all the Camp Fires in the whole city."

Supper, in spite of the storm that raged outside, was a jolly, happy meal. The girls were tired, but they brightened as the meal was served, and the few mistakes of the amateur waitresses only made everyone laugh.

Taps, the signal for bedtime, sounded early. All the girls, from the different Camp Fires, were together for a moment.

"We'll have the Council Fire to-morrow night," said Mrs. Chester. "And the longer you sleep to-night, the readier you'll be to-morrow for all the things we have to do. Good-night!"

And then, after all the girls together had sung the beautiful "Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame," silence rested on the camp.

Bessie slept like a log. But in the morning she awoke while everyone else was still asleep. In the east the sky was just turning pink, with the first signs of the coming day. The sky was a deep, beautiful blue, and in the west, where it was still dark, the last stars were still twinkling. Bessie sighed with the beauty of everything, and the sense of comfort and peace that she enjoyed. Then she tried to go to sleep again, but she could not. She had too many things to think about. Zara, disturbed by her movements, woke up too, and looked at her sleepily.

"You remember," said Bessie, "that Wanaka told us last night that in a field not far away there were loads and loads of wild strawberries that we could pick? I think I'll get dressed and see if I can't get enough for breakfast, as a surprise."

"Shall I come with you?" asked Zara.

"No," said Bessie, laughing. "You go to sleep again—you're only half awake now!"

She had no trouble in finding the strawberries, although, just because it was so beautiful, she walked around the great estate for quite a while first. It was a wonderful place. Parts of it were beautifully cared for, with smooth, well clipped lawns, and a few old trees; parts were left just as nature had meant them to be, and to Bessie they seemed even more beautiful. And still other acres were turned into farm lands, where there were all sorts of growing crops.

A few gardeners were about, and they smiled at Bessie as they saw her. She saw some of the deer that Eleanor had spoken of, too, who were so tame that they let her come as close as she liked. But she spent little time in looking at them, and when she found the field where the berries grew she had soon picked a great apronful of them. When she returned everyone was up, and she was greeted with cries of joy when the girls saw her burden.

"They'll make our breakfast ever so much nicer," said Eleanor. "It was good of you to think of them."

Not until after breakfast did they see Mrs. Chester—not, indeed, until all the dishes had been washed and put away. And then she approached with a grave face, and called the Guardian aside. They talked together earnestly for a few minutes, and Eleanor's face grew as serious as the Chief Guardian's. Bessie saw that they looked at her more than once as they spoke, and that Eleanor shook her head repeatedly.

"I wonder what can be wrong, Zara," she said. "Do you suppose that Farmer Weeks has been making trouble for us again?"

"Oh, I hope not! Do you think it's about us they're talking?"

"I'm afraid so. See, they're calling me. We'll soon know."

Bessie did indeed, soon know what had happened.

"Bessie," said Mrs. Chester, "did you go anywhere else this morning when you went for berries?"

"I just walked about the place, Mrs. Chester, and looked around. That's all."

"But you were quite alone?"

"Yes, quite alone. I only saw a few men who were working, cutting the grass, and trimming hedges."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Bessie, over there in the woods there's a place that's fenced off, where General Seeley keeps a lot of pheasants. And some time since last night someone has been in there and frightened the mother birds and taken a lot of the eggs. Some of them were broken—and it was not an animal."

Bessie looked frightened and concerned.

"Oh, what a shame! But, Mrs. Chester, you don't think I did it?"