Since darkness had fallen there had been no noise save the murmur of
their own voices and the cry of "Hinakaga", the owl, like a sentry at
his post making his report from the grove of pines.
Once or twice as the time slipped away Miss McMurtry had faintly
suggested that the hour had come for retiring, but always the girls, led
by Polly O'Neill, had pleaded that to-night was not like other nights,
and they must be allowed a slightly longer respite. During the earlier
part of the evening, when she had believed no one observing her, Polly
had evidently been on the lookout for something or some one, for she had
kept glancing slyly out across the country toward the path leading to
their camp; now, however, this idea must have passed from her mind, for
she was as completely absorbed as her companions in the selection of the
new names, which the girls might hope to bear in their Camp Fire club.
Miss McMurtry talked very little--persons who are deep students rarely
do; far more apt are those of us who play upon the surface of life to
like to do our thinking aloud. So now, the Council was surprised to
hear her speak in so earnest a tone that every one else was silenced:
"Girls, I want you to do me a favor to-night. I don't know whether it
is usual for the guardian of a Camp Fire club to have a new title
awarded her, but nevertheless I want you to give me one.
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